


Loved You Twice

by reallytastymeatloaf



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Age Difference, All kinds of sex, Anal Sex, Angst, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Denial, Sex, Threesome - F/F/F, Threesome - F/F/M, Time Travel, angst angst and more angst, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:26:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallytastymeatloaf/pseuds/reallytastymeatloaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders told her once that he was a completely different person before he merged with Justice.</p><p>Hawke never really believed him until she met them both firsthand.</p><p>Lost in time, she pines for the Anders she loved in Kirkwall, while falling head-over-heels for the man he once was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

So cold….

Hawke reached clumsily for her blanket, she must have squirmed out of it some time during the night. If she’d even had one to begin with. From the feeling of the hard floor beneath her and the pulsing ache in her head, it wasn’t a far-fetched guess that she’d passed out from too much liquor.

Had she been drinking? 

She didn’t remember overindulging. She didn’t remember…?

Well, she didn’t remember much really. 

A hard crack of thunder startled her from her barely wakened state. She was outside. The floor beneath her wasn’t floor at all. It was ground. Cold, hard ground. Wet grass and no celing. The smell of blood.

The awning above her head had shielded her from the falling rain, but there was definitely a storm brewing -- and from the sounds of distant screams, that was true in more ways than one. 

Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, Hawke scrambled to her feet and reached for her weapon out of pure reflex, hand closing over nothing but empty air. She was unarmed. 

Unarmed, Unarmored, Outside, and Alone. _‘Well,’_ she thought glumly as her gaze focused on the scenery around her, there were several corpses in the immediate area alone. Not a far fetched theory that there were probably enemies nearby too. _‘Not completely alone, unfortunately.’_

Adrenaline surged through her. There would be time for questions and confusion later. Now was the time for action. She hadn’t clawed her way up from Lowtown by not taking initiative. She needed armor and a weapon, and quick. Something had killed these men, messily, from the amount of blood, in the air and strewn across the ground. More blood than bodies. Someone was taking prisoners. 

With quick, practiced fingers, she found a suitable corpse and disrobed him swiftly -- scavenging for usable equipment. In a matter of a mere five minutes and three corpses Hawke had managed to put together a serviceable, if not ideal, set of armor for herself. Along with a handful of weak healing potions, not that they had helped these poor sods very much.

There was a brief lull in the so far permanent background noise of steel and battle cries. Dylan wondered if she might just be lucky enough to only catch the finale of the show. This place was clearly a fortress, specially designed for battles like these. Though it was in a rather undebatable state of disrepair. The architecture was old, but in its day it was probably quite something to behold. 

The area she had awoken in appeared to be a courtyard of some kind. There were garrisons along the wall, watchtowers that were either unguarded or had already been cleared out by the attackers. One thing was for certain, she definitely wasn’t in Kirkwall anymore. 

Before she had enough time to form a conclusion about her surroundings, however, she heard the unmistakable sound of a dwarven explosive, followed immediately by the cacophony of collapsing stone. Suddenly the calm was over, and the storm had begun once more.

Roars sounded from nearby and Hawke once again found herself running directly towards the danger (instead of the more sensible choice of far, **far** away). 

As soon as she rounded the corner of the nearest archway she smelled them. It was a scent she had only encountered a handful of times in her life. But just once would have been enough to fix it forever in her mind.

Darkspawn. 

Hawke heard the telling ‘poof’ of a rogue behind her and raised her shield just in time to block the incoming attack of a shriek. It appeared to be alone and she disarmed it quickly (and literally) before turning quickly towards the sound of enraged roars, facing the approaching battalion. 

There were too many of them. 

7, maybe 10. Easily handled by her sword alone on a good day, but in a suit of damaged armor, with nothing but a wooden shield and a dulled shortsword to her name, she didn’t stand a chance.

Praying that her casting would be fast enough without any sort of enchanted equipment to augment it, she hastily drew the energies together for a mass paralysis spell. It wasn’t something she’d had many occasions to use, and as it settled over the bulk of the group she couldn’t help but heave a relieved sigh. 6 trapped, 2 still free.

The two that remained unaffected and mobile were easily enough dispatched. They were genlocks and nothing more, their thin leather armor splitting easily against her blade. By the time the spell wore off on the remaining six they fell as dead weight into pools of their own blood. Throats slit like butter as they hung frozen in time. 

Hawke was already long gone.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The inside of the keep was in an almost identical state of disrepair to it’s exterior. Though Hawke was unsure whether to blame this destruction on time, or on the darkspawn. Tables were overturned, stone crumbled, and the heavy stench of smoke hung in the air. At least there were no bodies in here, she could grant it that, at least.

Tapestries and statues of Gryphons easily signified this as a Grey Warden keep. Though Hawke knew little of the order outside of what she had managed to learn from Anders the few times he had opened up to her.

She’d been quick enough to drive that friendship into the ground, hadn’t she? With her incessant, shameless flirting and-

 _‘Imbecile.’_

She flinched doubly for her inappropriate thoughts as well as her memories. Some of her more truly cringeworthy lines playing back behind her eyelids. Sometimes Hawke though it might be better if she just wasn’t allowed to talk to people she found emotionally **and** sexually attractive. Ruggedly handsome, possessed apostates, (who were way too old for her) topping off that list. 

She rattled the knob of the door on the left side of the keep, banging her shoulder against it when it proved to be jammed. Fuck. Not getting through there. Well, only one other way out of this maker-damned room. 

The heavy smell of charred darkspawn flesh wafted over her as she approached. Wrinkling up her nose in distaste and bracing herself for whatever lay on the other side, Dylan swung the door open and led with her shield.

_‘Heh. Think of the (desire) demon and it will appear.’_

Anders. That was definitely Anders. But…. that was impossible. Anders was back in Kirkwall, and she had never in her life seen him nearly as well groomed as the vision (god, even she couldn’t stand how cheesy she was) before her. It must be her imagination, her incredibly apostate-centric imagination. Yes, that had to be it. As he turned to fully face her, shaking his fingertips almost comically to dismiss the fireblast he had summoned, it was clear that he was far closer in age to Dylan than _her_ Anders was. The telltale worry creases on his forehead were missing, and the permanently furrowed brow she had so come to adore was now perfectly smooth.

“Er… I didn’t do it.”

His voice, his face. It all screamed Anders. Her mind swam with the impossibility of the situation, and if she weren’t such a competent mage she would have sworn backwards and forwards that this was some trick of the fade. Dimly, she was aware that her lips seemed to be half forming words. Gaping like the mouth of a fish fresh out of water - Maker, she had never been at such a loss for something to say in her life.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not broken up about them dying, to be perfectly honest.” He looked guiltily at the ground behind him and Hawke noticed with surprise that there were an equal amount of charred templar corpses strewn among the defeated darkspawn. “Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down.” that chuckle was definitely a bit forced. 

He spoke with such a flippant, lighthearted tone. She had heard her Anders use it before, but sparingly, and she had always cherished those few stolen, carefree glimpses of him that she had collected in the past. This **was** Anders, she couldn’t deny it any longer.

Anders. Her Anders.

In the flesh.

In the younger, cockier flesh.

Surrounded by darkspawn.

In a Warden’s Keep.

Maker, she must be daft. This was the past, she was in the past. She knew this place from Anders’ stories. Vigil’s Keep, he had served as a Warden here years before he ever came to Kirkwall, before he ever met her. 

“Not too fond of them, huh?” She managed to choke out, somewhat breathlessly. Trying for a tone of humorous levity, but only managing to sound uncertain.

He raised a comical eyebrow at her and somehow still managed to make her want him. Something she could hardly believe possible when shut in a room full of cooked darkspawn, while simultaneously being inexplicably lost in time. “Oh, I know, I know. Most people enjoy being kicked in the head to be woken up each morning. Me? I’m just so picky.”

“You’re an apostate?” Stupid, stupid Hawke.

“Well, That’s what they call someone who doesn’t believe in being chained up in the tower, so yes, I suppose I am.” She huffed softly in equal parts amusement and embarrassment. Finally regaining her wits.

“Not a Grey Warden then. Don’t know how I could have **ever** thought so.” she snarked, laying the sarcasm on way too thick in an effort to mimic his own slightly patronizing tone. “ A mage, in a Grey Warden stronghold, far from Lake Calenhad, who I found killing darkspawn in a tevinter style robe. It all just **screams** _‘circle mage’_.” She ended with a completely over-the-top eye roll.

For a moment he seemed taken aback, but then he exhaled a small chuckled and seemed to reconsider her. Raking his eyes up and down her form in a way that made her fight to contain her sudden urge to shiver under his gaze. 

“You weren’t here when I arrived.” his tone was dismissive, as if this alone was supposed to excuse her for not realizing his situation. It was becoming harder and harder to keep the fond smile off her face. “I’m sure I would have remembered such a lovely woman as yourself.” 

He swept into an exaggerated bow and she lost her inner battle, the corners of her mouth turning upwards and betraying her.

“I am Anders, at your service. Mage and wanted apostate.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Anders awoke to the sound of his _locked_ clinic door slamming open. Startling him from his already light sleep.

Awake at once, he snatched up his staff from where it rested beside his bed and gathered mana to him. He was more than ready to fight for his freedom and his life. 

When he pushed back the curtain that separated his sleeping area from the rest of the clinic, his guard lowered immediately. Though admittedly not by much. They weren’t Templars, but didn’t mean Anders wanted to see them so early in the morning. Or was it still late? Fenris was all a-glow, anger clearly written on his face. Merrill hung behind him with swollen eyes, ringing her hands in the fabric of her robes. 

“What’s happened?” 

For this unlikely pair to disturb his sleep at such an hour it could be nothing small and nothing good.

“It...it’s-” Merrill struggled to speak, tears beginning to flow every time she even tried to open her mouth. She dissolved quickly into sobs. 

“It is Hawke.” Fenris intoned firmly, his disapproval for Merrill’s behavior not at all concealed. “She is gone.”

“Gone, what do you mean, gone?” Annoyance coloured his tone. They can’t have seriously disturbed his sleep because of _this_. Hawke was always disappearing off on some adventure or another, often for days at a time. Her absence in the city was nothing to be so alarmed about. Though….he _had_ just seen her earlier today, and though it wasn’t impossible she had simply neglected to tell him about her plans, it **was** unlike her. “Hawke is always running off to fight some villain or save some damosel. I don’t know what all this fuss is about, I’m sure--”

“She has disappeared in the middle of the night without her companions, her armor, or her mabari. Mere hours after being seen distraught and deep into her cups. But yes, I’m sure she will just _show up_. Certainly we are overreacting.”

Anders bit back the scathing retort that festered on the back of his tongue, but Fenris was not wrong. If all he said was true, something was definitely amiss. 

A tidal wave of guilt threatened to engulf him. If this was somehow his fault he would never forgive himself. When they had spoken earlier, he had been so harsh. Taken his pain and frustrations out on her like a child.

He had tried again and again to ignore her interest in him. Counseling her against seeking a relationship with a possessed mage over a decade her senior. But again and again his warnings had fallen on deaf ears. She refused to pursue another and reminded him continuously of her affections.

It was torture. 

He wanted her with every fiber of his being. Every time he denied her, spurned her advances, it cut deeper and deeper…. but he couldn’t give in.

He loved her. _Maker_ , he loved her.

And she deserved better.

So when she had come to him today. As she always did, all quick wit and temptation. He had braced himself familiarly to refuse her, but….

It had not been routine flirtation any more. She- She loved him. She told him as much, all but begged him to give her a chance and he..

Refused her. Cruelly.

He had lashed out at her when she was most vulnerable. Because he was petty, because he was in pain. 

If this was all his fault….he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He felt the familiar flare of Justice’s outrage at the thought of her suffering for his juvenile behaviour.

“Mage! We do not have time for your introspection. If you have not seen Hawke we must move on, she may be in danger.”

Anders nearly scoffed. _May_ be in danger. In _this city_. If Hawke was still in Kirkwall Anders would bet his years supply of elfroot that she was in some kind of perrill. 

“Let’s go.” He said simply, brushing past Fenris and out into the streets of darktown. 

They scoured the sewers, along with every bandit hideout they had ever raided in this nug-bollocking pit, before heading back to the clinic feeling defeated. Fenris propped his broken door into place, while Merrill assured him in her soft tones that the other parts of the city would have been searched by now. 

They should head to Hightown and find the others. 

Not wanting to make the long trek up at this time of night, and eager to find out if the others had seen hide or hair of the woman he loved, Anders directed the group over to Hawke’s basement passage. He ignored the suspicious look Fenris shot him. Thinking idly instead, as he pulled out the key to her cellar, that of all the times he had fantasized about sneaking up to her home in the middle of the night, it had never gone quite like this.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Anders led the group up the final flight of stairs he could already hear that the house above was not exactly quiet. From the noise he would guess that the rest of their rag-tag band had assembled there. Having already finishing searching their parts of the city. Damn, so there had been no luck finding her. Perhaps it had been too much to hope for that this could just blow over.

“You!” Isabela gasped as he emerged into the parlor where they had gathered. A dagger embedding itself into the wall mere inches from his head. “This is all _your_ fault.” 

“Rivaini...” Varric’s tone was light but warning. He had known Hawke longer than all of them, and joker though he might be, Anders knew that he would tolerate nothing that got in the way of them finding her. Accusations and mudslinging could wait for when she was _safe._

Either Isabela did not notice his objection or did not care, because moments later she was restrained by the Guard Captain as she tried to lunge at him. 

Surprisingly enough, it was the Choir Boy who took pity on his confused expression and decided to enlighten him.

“Merrill and Isabela were the last to see her. As they tell it, they were... _’comforting’_...her. She was intoxicated and distraught. She was -”

“We all went back to my home in the alienage, there was nothing odd, I swear. We just played games and told stories. She seemed fine when we went to sleep.” Merrill seemed to have finally given up on her grief, her stricken expression from earlier replaced with a look of stern determination that looked out of place on her childish features.

Isabela tore herself from Avelines grip with a roar, crossing the room in a flash to pin Anders against the wall. Dagger to his throat. “So _help_ me **mage** ,” she spat the word like a slur, reminding him for all the world of Fenris in that moment. “if this is because of whatever you did. you. will. _pay._ ”

She hadn’t told them then. He had been heartless. She had lain herself bare before him, opened up in a way he didn’t even know she was capable of, beneath that snarky exterior. If this had been any part his fault..he would accept whatever punishment Isabela might visit on him happily. If Justice would let him he might even…..no. That would be too selfish. Better to suffer a life without her, it would be no more than he deserved. No more than he had _asked_ for.

“Don’t you dare.” her normally husky tone was little more than a growl now. “Don’t you dare pity yourself now. You don’t deserve that luxury.” with reluctance she lowered her dagger, eyeing him for all the world as if he was no better than the carta filth they dealt with on a weekly basis. 

The silence in the room was thick and stifling, and it was Bodahn who finally broke it. Until this moment, Anders had not even noticed his presence. 

“So, if you don’t mind me asking Messere, what are we meant to do now? My boy and I would like to help in any way we can.”

Varric heaved a sigh and stumbled across the room to the couch. Setting Bianca gently on the cushion to his left. “Now...we wait.”

No one seemed to be able to meet each other’s eyes. The whole room seemed to be painfully aware that without Hawke to hold them together they were nothing. She had done so much for each of them, it was her who had let them matter, who raised them above the rest of the thugs and refugees that swarmed this Maker-damned city.

After they had sat for while, Sebastian began to pray. It was a repetitive verse, filled with the exact kind of holy _nonsense_ that Anders usually refused to abide by. But for once, he couldn’t seem to find it in him. Together they sat and mourned their friend until the first light of day filtered through the Hightown windows.

Hoping beyond hope that this wouldn’t be the first time that Varric’s information network failed them.


	2. Chapter 2

Perhaps it was just the shock of suddenly finding herself almost eight years in the past. Or maybe the strange rushes of joy that kept making Hawke’s fingertips tingle every time young Anders made a flirtatious comment or gave her that.. _look --_ but darkspawn seemed much easier to kill than she remembered.

Of course, last time she faced them had been in the deep roads with nothing but a flimsy circle robe and one of her father’s old staves. Call her picky, but she liked to have more than that between her squishy mage flesh and the darkspawn.

Thanks to some manuals she’d found deep underground in a dragon’s lair, now she could face down her foes in full plate if she wanted. She had become what the old dalish referred to as an ‘arcane warrior’. 

Hawke never **had** been suited to combat as a mage anyways. The only spells she had any sort of talent with were useless unless you had at least one blade on your side -- and those flimsy pieces of metal they attached to the end of staves didn’t count either. Entropy and non-healing spirit magic was all Hawke had mention-worthy proficiency in. But turns out, with a bit of magic buffing her up, she could make a damned good warrior.

It was becoming increasingly apparent, however, that among the many differences this Anders had from what Dylan was now affectionately calling ‘her Anders’ (only in the privacy of her own thoughts, of course), he was also embarrassingly inexperienced in battle. It made sense, up until now Anders’ whole life had been spent either in the circle or escaping from it. And while that life led to a fit body (from all the running) and a healthy knowledge of spells (from the circle library), it obviously didn’t lend itself to the practical application of those spells. 

It also apparently didn’t lead to knowledge of where to stand _on the fucking battlefield._ So far Anders had sustained at least one minor injury a fight, which slowed down their progress through the keep significantly. At least one of those injuries inflicted by her hand. 

Hawke was used to doing battle with an Anders who knew how to handle himself, who knew when to stay out of the way of her damned blade. Try as she might to be patient and understanding, her nerves were quickly becoming frayed. Three more darkspawn fell before her blade and Hawke turned to find Anders looking sheepishly up at her, seemingly uninjured, from the floor. Dylan hadn’t actually seen him fall, but from the light embarrassed blush on his cheeks she would guess he tripped over his own robes. _Urgh._ As if keeping herself alive through this wasn’t trouble enough.

Reaching out a hand to help him up, Hawke tried to shoot a reassuring smile his way before pushing through the next door, and into yet another wave of darkspawn. This group already engaged with a rather ferocious looking dwarf. 

He seemed to have most of the beasts well handled, leaving only a group of stragglers to come running towards the new arrivals. Hawke had just raised her weapon to handle them when a wave of ice magic rushed past her (way too close for comfort) leaving a soft layer of frost across her left side and freezing the darkspawn in their place. Dylan promptly bashed them to pieces with her shield and greeted the dwarf with a nod and a smile.

He greeted her with a mighty belch.

“Hey good-looking, can’t say I’ve seen you around these parts before.” He looked her up and down and let loose a second wave of toxic gas. Maker, it almost smelt worse than the darkspawn. Hawke wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Well, he’d be good in a fight. There was that at least. “Who’s the mage? Boyfriend? Should I leave you two alone?” 

Despite the clear humor in his -- slightly slurred -- words the insinuation still brought a light blush to her cheeks. And like all emotional vulnerability, Hawke scrambled to cover it up with jesting.

“By all means, give us a moment would you? Nothing lights my fire quite like mindless slaughter.”

Dylan thought she heard Anders make a small noise of amused approval behind her, but she was still too flustered with the mental image of being _‘alone’_ with him to shoot a glance his way. Though he moved on quickly with a snark of his own, “Wow, a dwarf that smells like a brewery. You never see that anywhere.”

She couldn’t help but grant him a small chuckle for that one, and he stepped up to her side in  
response, eyes darting to her lips for too long to be unintentional and giving her a sly wink when she followed his gaze. Hawke answered with yet another exaggerated eye roll and turned her attention back to the dwarf. Turns out his name was Oghren, the same Oghren that helped the Hero of Ferelden defeat the Blight, and he was here to join the Grey Wardens. An unconventional soldier, surely, but from what little Hawke knew of the most famous wardens, that was pretty par for the course in this not-so-sacred order.

“Sure, why the hell not. I don’t have any real authority here anyways. What I do know is we’ve got a lot of darkspawn to murder before morning and the more the merrier. Can’t imagine it’ll be a safe road though. Killing darkspawn is a risky business.”

“Hah! There are risks to getting up in the morning. I piss on risk.”

“I’m sure risk appreciates it.” Anders spoke the words under his breath, far too quietly for the dwarf, Oghren, to hear. 

Just for her then.

They had just met (technically), and he probably flirted like this with everyone, if her Anders’ stories about his past were anything to go by. Still, she had never known him to show any interest in her before. It was hard not to bask in it a little. A sudden urge struck her to just turn and kiss him, she wondered if he would push her away. Well, maybe she’d experiment with that a bit once their lives weren’t in immediate peril.

“Let’s go.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A talking darkspawn. Maker, just when you thought you’d seen everything. 

It answered a few of the questions at least. The missing bodies from earlier. How the darkspawn had managed to take so many trained soldiers by surprise. That might be a big help if the answers themselves weren’t so nonsensical. Not that Hawke was any up and coming expert on the beasties, but weren’t they supposed to be a mindless horde?

The Withered went down easy enough, though it was annoyingly immune to all her entropy spells. Luckily, it seemed to be unable to shrug off Anders’ glyphs in the same way. 

All Hawke really had to do now that the dwarf had joined them was draw its attention and block its more threatening hits with her shield. Yet, still, when the battle finally ended, it was Hawke who seemed to receive all the credit. That seemed to be the story of her life, though Dylan had never been a glory hound. No matter where she went or what she did, the spotlight always seemed to land on her. In Lothering, in Kirkwall….and now here. Wherever here was, near Amaranthine, if her Anders’ stories were at all accurate.

In somber silence they made their way back through the keep. _‘Where do we go from here?’_ , seemed to be the question on everybody’s mind. Hawke couldn’t think of anything other than helping Anders get far, far away from this forsaken place. Making sure the Templar’s never got their dirty hands on him. Making sure he ended up free, and happy. Making sure he never had to suffer under the Chantry’s injustice again. She knew they were all impossible fantasies. Not that she could help herself from entertaining them.

It was all she’d ever wanted for him. All _he’d_ ever wanted for every mage in Thedas.

Still, as they neared the door to the keep. Neared the threshold of a new future, Hawke couldn’t bring herself to be surprised when the King burst through the gates -- accompanied by, void take them, a unit of templars.

Hawke figured being a godless heathen was finally catching up with her.

“It looks like I arrived a bit late. Too bad. I rather miss the whole darkspawn-killing thing.” He wasn’t exactly what Dylan expected from a king. But he _was_ pretty on par with the stories she’d heard of the ex-templar hero, Alistair. It was strange that something about his manner reminded her vaguely of her Anders. Perhaps the apostate was one of Marric’s bastards too, according to the legends the man _did_ get around. 

“I’d wanted to come and give the Wardens a formal welcome. I certainly wasn’t expecting this.”  
He paused briefly to look around at the destruction surrounding them. The darkspawn were gone, but the chaos they’d wrought still remained.

“What’s the situation?” Hawke was spared from having to answer his question by the man they had saved. He introduced himself as seneschal Varel, and while Dylan wasn’t versed enough in politics to know his exact role, she could gather from the way he spoke and carried himself that he was supposed to be someone important around these parts. 

Hawke tried, oh, did she try, to make it clear that this was not a one-woman war effort. From the way Varel talked, you would think she charged in and single-handedly uppercut the lot of the darkspawn to death. Every time she tried to interrupt the seneschal merely powered through with more tales of her greatness. 

It might be a petty gripe, but Dylan was getting pretty tired of being everyone’s damn champion all the time.

Apparently, tonight was something of an occasion. They had been expecting some great Warden commander from Orlais. However, either she had never arrived, or had fallen in the carnage. However, they now found themselves short on sword hands, and unfortunately without leadership -- at least until the Hero of Ferelden could be located. Not that that stopped her from balking when the King himself offered her the position of Warden Commander.

“But….I’m not even a Warden.” She spit out a second before realizing that admission may not be the wisest move.

“I know, we can sense our own, but I have a good feeling about you. If my time with the _‘Hero of Ferelden’_ ” He said the name with implied air quotes, as if he himself found the title ridiculous, “taught me anything it’s that you should take help wherever you can find it. The Wardens can’t afford to be picky right now. You’re a good fighter, and a natural leader. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Good luck.”

Well that was a bit of a backhanded compliment, wasn’t it?

Oddly enough her first impulse was to run. Hawke had been through a lot for someone thrice her age, yet the prospect of becoming a Grey Warden still humbled her. She knew so little about what it meant, other than the fact that her Anders had fled the life and never looked back.

Her decision was made for her when the cross looking Templar at the King’s side decided to speak up. 

“King Alistair! Your Majesty, Beware! This man is a dangerous criminal!”

Hawke tried to keep her reaction to the words subtle, reaching as if to adjust the belt that held her holster. Casually bringing her hand that much closer to her weapon, lest things end in bloodshed.

She had no doubt whose side she would choose should an encounter take place. Anders would go back to the circle only once her body lay lifeless and cooling.

To her surprise King Alistair seemed merely bemused. “Oh, the dwarf is a bit of an arse but I wouldn’t go that -”

“She means me.”

 **Damnit** Anders! 

Her fingers twitched as they met the hilt of her weapon. In preparation for battle Dylan drew on her deepest reserves of mana to increase her physical strength, Hawke’s skin hardened to the point of stone as she evaluated her enemies. 

“This man is an apostate. We were in the process of bringing him back to the circle to face justice!”

Oh, Hawke would enjoy killing her. _‘Justice’_ she mused. Bollocks. What this bitch knew about Justice -

“Oh, please.” Anders spoke up, contempt all but dripping from his lips. “The things you people know about justice wouldn’t fill a thimble.” He crossed his arms defiantly, and Hawke took a moment even now to appreciate the fire within him. She knew what he had been through at this point in his life, and still he remained defiant until the last.

“Besides, I’ll just escape again, anyhow.” there was a self-satisfied smirk on his face, a clear challenge to the harpy in front of him. It was an unwise move, taunting someone who had so much power over his life. He was practically begging for another year in solitary. Still, she couldn’t help but find his rebellion incredibly arousing.

“Never!” Maker, she had the shrillest voice Dylan ever had the displeasure of hearing. “I will see you hanged for what you’ve done here, murderer!”

_‘Murderer?’_

“Murderer? But those templars were --” The bitch was going to blame him for the deaths of every single templar that had fallen to the darkspawn. Not that Hawke believed him completely innocent, but... _still…_ “Oh, what’s the use? You won’t believe me anyhow.”

Hm, maybe he was innocent. It was a novel idea, but then again all she had to go off of was what she knew of her Anders. And as it was becoming increasingly clear, this was not him.

So this was the moment of truth. The templars were completely within their jurisdiction. They had the power to take Anders back to the circle, to punish him for his escape and for the magic he had used only to defend himself. It could not come to this. 

In his stories of the Wardens, Anders had spoken of his recruitment. Of the Hero of Ferelden snatching him out from beneath the Templar’s noses. 

Well, she may not be the a hero of legend, but she _had_ been declared the new Warden Commander (to be?) only moments before. Perhaps it was about time she tested the unknown waters of her new powers.

“No. I hereby conscript this mage into the Grey Wardens. He will **not** be returning with you.”

Shocked silence greeted her words. The Templar, Rylock, Alistair had called her, looked as if she was moment away from bursting a blood vessel. The king, however, looked nothing but pleasantly amused, and not the tiniest bit surprised.

Meeting her eyes he gave a small nod in acknowledgement of her words and turned an almost taunting smirk at the woman to his right.

“Well, that’s that then. I wish you luck in rebuilding our order, _'Warden Commander.'_ ” And with that he gave her a curt bow and went on his way. A company of furious Templars at his heels.

Hawke was victorious, for now. Anders would still have to survive the joining, and all that came after. But if Dylan had learned anything from her years in Kirkwall, it was that problems like these best if taken one at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you can't be an arcane warrior in Dragon Age 2. There isn't even a good mod for it, much to my dismay. Still, the fighting style just seemed to fit for Dylan, so I'll make it work..
> 
> I hope.
> 
> Anyways, I know that when you cast entropy spells in the game or activate the arcane warrior skills they all have visible effects. In my head-cannon however, to make mages harder to spot, most spells don't have any visible indicators other than casting. Of course, obviously most of the primal spells would be visible. As well as shape-shifting and the Glyphs. Other than that I would think most spells wouldn't suffer from not having a visible component. 
> 
> Sorry if you don't like that interpretation, but it was important for some things I want to do later in the story. 
> 
> Bye. :)
> 
> PS: Sorry if you see my note from the first chapter too. I don't know if that's just me, but I don't know how to make it stop.


	3. Chapter 3

It probably shouldn’t have taken Hawke so long to figure out that they still didn’t know she was a mage. It’s not like she had been hiding it, she just hadn’t thought to bring it up. 

Should she mention it _now?_ Dylan wasn’t quite sure how to work something like that into a conversation without seeming suspicious. Perhaps after the joining, when they couldn’t change their mind about wanting a mage for their commander and call that horrible Templar woman back to retrieve her. Yes, that seemed much more sensible.

Besides, Hawke had often wondered if the closeness she shared with her Anders would still exist if he didn’t have such a soft spot for all things magic. This might be just the chance to see how he treated her when he thought her just another warrior.

All of this assuming she even survived. There were four of them (Oghren, Anders, a recruit named Mhairi, and herself) undergoing the joining, and Hawke knew that the odds of them all surviving were bleak. When Varel re-entered the room with the ceremonial chalice, she stepped forward. Eagerly planning to offer herself as the first to drink. Not out of courage, mind you. Hawke just wanted this over with. If she was the first to partake, she would either die or be unconscious for an hour or two. She wouldn’t have to watch the others suffer, possibly even perish.

But Oghren beat her to it. 

Despite the seriousness of the ritual, Dylan couldn’t help but huff out a laugh when Oghren took the taint in stride. Eyes rolling back in his head, he belched as if the blood was nothing more than a particularly potent dwarven brew. He even managed to remain on his feet, something Hawke hadn’t even thought was possible.

Anders went next, his face was a careful mask of calm. Though Hawke knew him well enough to read his tells. He was scared. Still, he fixed her with an appraising glare and smirked. Covering his nerves with a joke as always.

“Oh, alright. I’ll drink. But if I wake up two weeks from now on a ship bound for Rivain in nothing but my smallclothes and a tattoo on my forehead, I’m blaming you.”

Hawke’s belly clenched and churned with worry for him, but she still forced herself to give him an exasperated laugh. Nodding her head for him to drink.

Dylan didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he collapsed to the floor. Varel giving her the slightest of reassuring gestures. He would be ok. Now she just had to live through this.

Of course then Mhairi died, and Hawke was forced to accept that the odds were definitely not in her favor. But it’s not like she had anywhere to run to anyways, and she couldn’t - wouldn’t - desert Anders.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” She whispered. Dylan let her features soften just this once. Normally so careful about guarding her true emotions, she looked upon his crumpled form and let her love for him warm her veins and give her strength.

Then she raised the goblet to her lips, and drank deeply. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Hawke awoke it was in a foreign bed, much nicer than she would have expected for a room in a military keep. A part of her had held on to the hope that she would awaken back in her own time (world?) -- puzzled by her especially vivid dream. Alas, this seemed to be her reality for the time being. 

So this was what being a Grey Warden was like. Dylan had expected to feel different, perhaps a little ill or monstrous. After all, she was ‘tainted’ now. Instead she just felt starved and hungover.

It was almost shocking how quickly the keep had put itself back together. And more so how easily all the staff seemed to accept her authority without question. Everyone gave slight bows or a salute as she passed, and even the cooks seemed to know to call her ‘Commander’ now. Of course, she couldn’t help but muse, a smile creeping across her face, what else would they call her? She hadn’t given anyone but Anders her name. Even then, he only knew her surname ‘Hawke’. It was what most called her anyways.

How long until someone asked? Did it even matter? For all they knew she could just make something up, perhaps it would be wiser if she did. Somehow Hawke doubted Anders would tell on her if she introduced herself as something new. Though it was all just idle fantasy.

Dylan was suddenly quite glad she had experienced being the go-to-girl for all of Kirkwall’s problems, because these people certainly expected her to solve all of theirs. Almost the moment she stepped into the main hall of the keep she was swarmed by requests from Varel, Mistress Wolsey, a gaggle of nobles and a few of the guard. Already she was attempting to catalogue them mentally by time sensitivity, importance, and distance from the keep. Not that Hawke was overly familiar with the surrounding areas, but Varel had been considerate enough to leave a map, along with a handful of other supplies, in her room.

“Good morning _Commander._ ” Anders caught up with her as she emerged into the courtyard, eyeing her up brazenly and purring her new title at her as if it were some sort of odd pet name. She met his gaze, communicating a silent challenge. No doubt he was used to women swooning all over him, well, if he expected her to fall in line he was in for a surprise.

Not that she wasn’t planning on sleeping with him. She totally was. Just on her own terms, and she wouldn’t let him get under her skin. He wasn’t the one she really wanted, but he would make a damn good substitute. 

“At east, _recruit._ ” She let the word roll of her tongue as if it were something private and seductive. Allowing herself a self satisfied smirk when his eyes widened a fraction, clearly not used to a woman who didn’t blush and titter under his advances. “No need for formalities, we’re all friends here.”

Dylan spent nearly an hour exploring the courtyard of the keep, Anders following close behind more often than not. She found a few left behind supplies that no one was clearly missing, and liberated them for later use. Eventually she could find no more reason to delay. And Hawke was forced to come to the conclusion that the lives of _many_ merchants and travelers were more important than the fate of _one_ Grey Warden. Though Hawke wouldn’t relish explaining her decision to Kristoff’s wife should they not find him in time. 

They were to depart for the Wending Wood before midday. Hawke sent Anders off to inform Oghren, and gather any supplies they would need for their journey. While they prepared, Dylan would interrogate this thief they had captured and see if she couldn’t get her hands on a proper set of light Warden plate before they took to the road. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The prisoner turned out to be Nathaniel Howe of all people. There wasn’t a soul in Ferelden who didn’t know of his family’s treachery, still, Hawke was surprised at how Varel seemed to want her to handle the situation. Nathaniel certainly hadn't had anything to do with his father's actions -- being on an entirely different continent at the time -- and even now seemed not to know the truth of what had taken place. 

Dylan could sympathize, he wanted to think the best of his family. Even if his father had been a wicked ball of scum, family was family. Maker knows she had never been fond of her own Mother, and Carver was frustrating to deal with at the best of times. Still, It always hurt to lose someone so close, and Hawke certainly had experience with that. 

Sympathy and leniency were not in the cards, however. The Howe name had been dragged too thoroughly through the mud for him to just be set free. The nobles wanted him executed simply for trying to reclaim his own family heirlooms. Had Hawke not done the very same thing once upon a time? -- breaking into her old family home to retrieve her Grandfather’s will. She could not fault Nathaniel for his actions any more than she could fault him for being born into the wrong family. 

In the end she conscripted him.

His recruitment was something that did not sit well with her. But it was her best option, the arling would not allow her to sit by and let him go free, especially after he had admitted to her face that he would simply return to try again. So he would undergo the joining. **After** they returned from making the Wood safe for merchants and travelers again, of course. 

Nathaniel made no secret of his reluctance to join the Wardens, but no doubt he would be an asset. His precision and speed with a bow rivaling even Sebastians. He claimed to be talented at the stealthier techniques as well, but seeing as he had been caught thieving by normal guards, somehow Dylan doubted his claims.

When she insinuated as much he simply scowled and ended their conversation. No big loss there. He wasn’t a particularly pleasant fellow.

If Hawke hadn’t had so much experience with Fenris she might have been impressed by the sheer intensity of his brooding. Still, he seemed willing to obey her, his respect could come later. Dylan had no doubt she would earn it in time.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

Dylan had never thought there would be a point in her life when she was _too_ girly for her own good. It had always been Leandra’s go to complaint when she was younger (and again once they moved to Hightown) that she was too wild, too boyish -- she would never make a proper wife. Oh the horror. Why couldn’t she coo over dresses and makeup like the other girls?

Instead of flirting with boys and learning ‘the essentials’ (as her mother called them). Which included how to: cook, sew and tend household. Dylan had instead always prefered sports, drinking, combat and (when she got a little older) sex. 

Still, she had never cared much for being pretty or talking about her feelings. Yet the moment Anders batted his beautiful blonde eyelashes at her she collapsed into a pile of girly goo just like all the others. Perhaps not as visibly as most, but definitely enough to compromise her judgement. Which is how she ended up here.

Instead of taking the fine set of Warden plate-mail the soldiers at the keep had so generously offered her, Hawke had raided their armory and put together a hodgepodge of the most revealing, form fitting armor she could find. It was completely impractical, and completely out of character. She didn’t even know if she could fight properly in something this restrictive. 

It did make her look good though. She’d even borrowed some charcoal from one of the female recruits to outline her eyes. A decision she was sorely regretting with every step she took. Other than her expedition to the deep roads, and occasional overnight trips to Sundermount, most of Hawkes adventures were over and done with in a few hours time. She hardly ever left the city, and when she did it certainly wasn’t for days of travel on foot.

Dear Maker, they were only about five hours into their three day trip and the soles of her feet already felt like they were on fire. and bleeding. Her feet were _on fire and bleeding_. The sexy yet impractical armor was chaffing her in all the wrong places and the thick black lines around her eyes had begun melting in the heat and sweat. Blurring her vision and making her eyes sting. 

So, mission ‘look alluring for Anders’ failed spectacularly right out of the gate. Already Hawke was counting the hours until sunset so they could find a stream for her to wash her damn face in.

The worst part was that she couldn’t even flirt with him. Normally double entendre and suggestive remarks were one of Dylan’s specialities. Unfortunately, due to the actual emotional involvement she had with her Anders, and the echoes of it that _this_ Anders evoked, seemed to render her a sort special of love-sick-cripple. The kind where her brain refused to form complete thoughts and her limbs suddenly became filled with lead.

Love was awful, start to finish awful. It turned things she usually loved into foreign and frightening concepts. Sex and seduction were usually her comfort zones. By all means she wasn’t very attractive, but she had a realistic view of herself. Her body was well above average, though it was more appealing out of armor (where the charms of her hourglass figure were usually lost for the sake of protection). Her face was a little too mismatched for her tastes. Isabela preferred to call it _exotic_ , but had been quick to show Dylan how to tart herself up with cosmetics. She didn’t use them too often though, it seemed too much like a lie. False advertising didn’t do anyone favors in the long run.

Most of her confidence came from experience, though lately she hadn’t had much practice, to be entirely honest. 

There was a particularly delicious apostate to blame for that.

Not that she had become celibate for the past six years. Perish the thought. No, Hawke had slept with Isabela and Jethann a few times. As well as some of Avelines guardsmen, all one night stands. Fenris once, though she kind of regretted that one. He seemed to have read more into it then there was. For her it was one emotionally charged evening, borne of years of frustration and rivalry, between the two. Andraste's tits, when he’d thrown her against the wall she hadn’t been sure whether he was going to kiss or kill her. 

He had stormed out the next morning and she hadn’t tried hard to stop him. 

Ever since he had worn her hair tie and her family crest at all times. Sometimes she was afraid that she was a bad person because she regretted her actions more for Anders’ disappointed reaction than for any pain Fenris may have experienced. Surely he knew she--

“So, you’re a bit of a mystery aren’t you?” 

Lost in her thoughts she had been trudging along, oblivious to her surroundings, menacing the ground with her glare. Anders was hunching over to meet her eyes, slumped as she was, considering he had quite a few inches on her already. Fighting down the flush that threatened to light up her cheeks she met his eyes with the same warmth and playfulness that he radiated. Breaking into a wide smile as his mere presence raised her spirits.

“Oh, You mean because I showed up out of nowhere, swept you off your feet and killed a magical talking darkspawn?”

“Well it’s not every day I get rescued from big bad templars by a gorgeous woman.” He winked at her, _again_.

“Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t you?” She couldn’t help but scoff. When her Anders had spoken of his prowess with women Hawke had envisioned something a little more….subtle. From what she’d seen so far he seemed to have about the same level of subtlety as a battering ram.

“Am I not allowed to be grateful now? If you’d like I could show you just how much I really _appreciate_ it.”

Did that approach really work? Maker, he would be more smooth if he just whipped out his cock and asked if she fancied a ride.

This attention was quickly losing its novelty. It was a little bit too far in the opposite direction.  
Her Anders wouldn’t have noticed that she was an available sexual partner if she’d stripped off all of her clothing and did a tradition ferelden mating dance around him. _This_ Anders on the other hand couldn’t seem to **stop** noticing her. The suggestive looks and the non-stop flirting were really starting to grate. 

“Look.” Hawke put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him with her to the back of the group. “You’re wasting your time. I don’t want or need your sweet-nothings and hollow flatteries.”

It actually surprised her when his face fell. Surely if he was that hard up he could just focus his attention on one of the many female guards flocking around the keep. He’d be fine, one blow to his ego wouldn’t hurt. Though she took pity on him anyways.

“Don’t worry, I’m not saying it’ll never happen. You’re attractive, and I’m definitely interested.” He perked up visibly at that. “But if you keep up the incessant innuendo and leering you might as well just consider me closed for business.”

Of course she would bed him eventually. Probably. Though she couldn’t help feeling conflicted about using him to satisfy her ‘Anders’ itch. Despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind saying it would be comparable to cheating. -- Hawke doubted she could deny herself the chance to know what it would be like. 

At least once. 

It was too quiet. Where was Anders, he should have answered by now.

He wasn’t walking beside her anymore, she realized. Looking over her shoulder she found him stopped in his tracks a few paces behind her, a strange smile on his face. It wasn’t a look she’d ever seen on him before, and it definitely wasn’t the same flirtatious smile he’d been shooting her thus far. “Ok?”

It was definitely a full fledged grin now, and he clapped her firmly on the shoulder as he caught up. The look in his eyes more warm and bright than smoldering now. 

“I like you.” He said simply, before speeding up his gait to antagonize Oghren some more. Dylan was glad he hadn’t stuck around to see how much those three words had affected her -- in a way his attempts to get under her armor never could have.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y-you…!” Hawke had to stop for a moment to catch her breath before she finished setting up her tent. Maker, she hadn’t laughed this much in _ages_. Her stomach was beginning to cramp from it all. A few feet to her left Anders was sitting comfortably in the awning of his own tent, set up much more quickly and skillfully than her own. He seemed incredibly amused by her inability to form complete sentences, not to mention extremely proud of himself for being the one to put her in this state. 

She drove the final spike into the ground and collapsed beside him, finally beginning the arduous task of shedding her layers of armor. “I can’t believe you’d do something like that! Maker, what if the Templars had caught you?” He merely shrugged, as if he wasn’t bothered at all by the prospect of corporal punishment.

“Your turn.” he said, nudging her playfully with his shoulder as Hawke struggled to pull the strange leather harness thing she’d worn over her head. 

“Nmmur hve Iver visht-”

This time it was Ander’s turn to burst out laughing. Reaching out to tug on the garment she’d manage to twist herself up in. “Come again?” He ventured once her face was free of the offending fabric.

“Never have I ever visited the Pearl.” She fixed him with a knowing smirk, and he narrowed his eyes at her in challenge before sighing and making a show of putting down another finger. They were surprisingly evenly matched in this. Though Hawke was sure he’d had much more experience than her, most of it had been in the circle, which apparently didn’t allow for too much variety. 

“Never have I ever had hate sex.”

“Really?” Not bothering to hide the surprise in her tone Hawke lowered another finger. “Never even a templar?”

His only response was a shrug, whether that meant he’d never slept with a templar or he didn’t consider that hate sex was beyond her. Dylan bit her tongue in an attempt to resist the urge to dig further and ruin the mood.

“Ok then, let’s see…..” she pretended to mull it over, though she wasn’t nearly out of questions. “..never. have. I. ever….” it was just too fun watching him lean forward in anticipation as she drew her words out “forgotten the name of one of my partners.” 

Well, _technically_ “-- **first** names!” she corrected quickly, earning a chuckle from Anders in response.

“Does--”

“ - foreplay counts.” Hawke cut him off, knowing exactly where he was going with that loophole.

“ _Damn._ ” He hissed at her like a cat -- causing her giggles to reemerge -- and put another finger down. Eyes narrowing in challenge. 

Dylan knew that look. That was her Anders’ _‘I-have-something-up-my-sleeve’_ look. Good to know some things didn’t change.

“Never have I ever **_been. in. love._** ” the word sounded spicy and sinful on his tongue, silencing her laughter at once..

Her head whipped around to glare at him. “And you assume that I _have_ because….I’m a woman?”

“Am I wrong?” He raised one cocky eyebrow at her, far too smug for her comfort.

“Well, technically, _been_ is past tense so…..” she whistled innocently and held up her remaining 4 fingers, wiggling them at him tauntingly. 

“ _Cheater!_ ” He attempted to mask the mirth in his voice with false accusation and failed miserably.

Dylan forced a maniacal laugh as she hunched over to pull off her boots, her victory was cut short however when he spoke again. Leaning back on his palms, it was obvious he was trying to look casual about something...

“So tell me about him...er, her? Uh, them. Tell me about them.”

… like an incredibly personal question maybe?

_‘Oh, no one special. Just an older, possesed, scruffier version of **you.** That’s why I’ve practically been attached to you at the hip since I arrived. And why I’m seriously considering taking total advantage of your promiscuity and fucking your brains out in an effort to feel closer to him. Even though using you as a substitute like that is something I find morally repulsive.’_

There was a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach. Hawke had been trying her hardest _not_ to stop and think about this since she arrived. A cold sweat began to break out on her skin. 

She really might never see him again. Her Anders. What if she was stuck here? Forever. Stuck here with this **not** -Anders. What if the templars came for him and she wasn’t there to -- 

_**‘No…’**_

A real, physical ache bloomed in her chest as she thought of him. Would he miss her? How long until they even realized she was gone?

Her eyes burned and a tear slipped down her cheek. She tried quickly to cover it but he had already seen. 

“Oh, Maker. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to….I’ll-- just be quiet now.”

“It’s not your fault,” She said gathering up her bathing materials and shooting him a reassuring smile. “I’m just gonna go rinse off in the stream.”

When she looked back up his face was contorted into a concerned expression that Hawke was more than familiar with on her own Anders, and for a second she could have easily confused the two. It was almost tempting to ask him to join her. She knew he wouldn’t turn her down, even now...then maybe she could just pretend. 

A hiccuping sob burst forth and his hands reached out and hovered over her arms as if he was afraid that touching might cause her to shatter. Maker she was a mess, and it was obvious he wanted to help. Apparently even back when he was sleeping around and turning everything into a joke he was still a healer at heart. 

From what Dylan knew of the circle it made sense. That kind of soft-heartedness would no doubt be exploited by the Templars. Perhaps all this promiscuity was just his way of coping. Trying to milk every drop of enjoyment he could out of a miserable life.

One look into his wide amber eyes and Dylan knew she’d been right. He was genuinely worried about her-- Anders was just as afraid and unfamiliar with vulnerability as she was. 

_‘Or maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see. Stop projecting your shortcomings onto him. You miserable twat.’_

“Sorry, touchy subject. Don’t worry about me, I’m just a hysterical woman.” Hawke took a wide berth as she stepped around him and all but jogged off towards the stream. Feeling his gaze, heavy on her wilted form, as she faded into the distance.


	5. Chapter 5

When she finally returned to camp Anders had the good sense not to try and talk to her about what had passed between them earlier. Still, Hawke was loathe to try and engage him in conversation again so soon, afraid that with so little time passed it might still be a bit awkward.

Nathaniel and Oghren didn’t seem interested in talking however. Too busy drowning themselves in angst and alcohol, respectively. So Anders was her only choice, unless she decided to try communing with the trees. 

Dylan bit back a snicker. Merrill probably wouldn’t have considered that such a bad idea. 

There was a bit of uncomfortable silence between them as they set a fire and ate their dry rations. After a couple failed attempts at starting a conversation, Hawke was left with only two topics she knew they both shared an interest in. Magic, and sex. 

And since she was still keeping the fact that she was a mage under wraps….

_‘Bollocks, he’s going to think I have a one-track mind.’_

“Is it true what they say about sex in the tower?” 

It was something Hawke had been genuinely curious about for a while now, she had heard the rumors -- hadn’t everyone? But the only mage she ever met that had spent time in the circle was her Anders (well, and her father...but she certainly wasn’t going to ask _him_ ), and getting him to talk about his time there was tantamount to pulling teeth from a rabid mabari. Not that she hadn’t managed, but maybe this version would be more accommodating.

He choked, pounding his chest to dislodge the jerky that was no doubt caught in his throat.

“Uh...I would have thought that would be obvious, especially after our little game earlier.”

_Psh._ He wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. 

“Not really, for all I know you’re just incredibly promiscuous for a mage.”

Anders snorted. Dylan wondered how she could possibly find that so attractive.

“Please, like you’re any paragon of virtue.”

She faked a gasp, pressing a hand to her chest overdramatically  
.   
“Compared to you I’m practically a Chantry sister.”

“Apparently we haven’t met the same Chantry sisters, most are about as chaste as the Templars.” 

Huh?

“I thought Templars took vows of chastity?”

“Well, yes. But they don't _keep_ them.”

They burst out laughing simultaneously and Dylan took advantage of his distraction to scoot closer. For warmth, of course. 

Once their giggles subsided, Anders began to tell stories of the his experience in the tower. Hawke was hypnotized, she didn’t even know he was capable of opening up like this. And without any real prompting, no less. Perhaps he was repaying her for the vulnerability she had shown him earlier.

Not that he was breaking down or bearing his heart, but he was certainly being honest. His hatred for the circle and frustration at the lives mages were forced to live was plain to see. Funny, she had always imagined that side of him only came after Justice. 

He explained to her how sex in the tower was different from sex outside the tower. Life in the circle was very uneventful, and sex was used as little more than something to pass the time and to stave off boredom. Mages were told day in and day out how awful they were, cursed by the maker just for existing.

_‘So much for hoping that stuff only happened in Kirkwall.’_

’As he spoke, bitterness began to color his words and Hawke decided it was better to step in now before the pleasant(-ish) mood was ruined.

“So which do you prefer?”

The look he gave her was one of confusion. Ok, maybe that phrasing had been a bit obtuse.

“Given a choice, would you rather have the quick, fun, no-strings-attached sex of the tower? Or the-”

“I get it now,” He interrupted, something dark flashing over his features. “and I couldn’t say. I’ve never really had time to stick around with one person before.”

“Oh…” _Shit._

Well that was certainly awkward. And confusing...she’d thought he and Karl-- Probably not the time to poke at that wound, huh?

Now Dylan felt even worse for planning on using him as a quick and easy tumble. This was probably his first chance at having a real sexual relationship, now that he was a Warden and didn’t have to be constantly on the run from Templars. 

It certainly cast his flirting and promiscuity in a new light. He wasn’t an insatiable horn-ball, Anders had just been taking small pleasures where he could find them. If she stayed in this time maybe she could have something with him. She could make his life so much better. Prevent his merging with Justice, give him a partner. Maybe in time she could love him the way she loved her Anders.

_‘Maybe he could even love **me.** ’_

Hawke let out an undignified squeak when Anders fingers closed around her ankle without warning. Dragging her feet onto his lap. 

“Um, not that I mind…” She began, his hands were glowing with warm healing magic as he started massaging the arches of her feet. “But what are you doing?” Maker that felt incredible, and it was exactly what she needed after a long day of walking in those horrible armored boots. 

She might have moaned a little bit.

He just snickered at her as he dug his thumb into her heels. Mmmm. Why hadn’t her Anders ever done this for her. It was magnificent.

“Healer, remember? You might try and act tough, but I saw the way you were wincing earlier. Relax, I promise I won’t tell anyone the new Warden Commander has such delicate feet.”

Humming in acknowledgement she let her head loll and her eyes slide shut. Though she did blindly toss a pinecone at him for his teasing. 

Hawke teetered on the brink between sleep and waking. As if underwater she heard Nathaniel engage Anders in a conversation about mages. Listening to Oghren tease good naturedly about their flirting, then less good naturedly about when they were going to“throw each other down and hump like brontos”. From somewhere far away she heard the calming lilt of Merrill’s dalish accent muttering something in elvhen.

Wait... _Merrill?_

**“Hawke!”**

Dylan snapped into wakefulness so quickly her neck muscles cramped in protest, looking around her at the surprised eyes of her companions.

“Commander, is something wrong?” Oghren had disappeared into his tent and was asleep (if the thunderous sound of his snores was anything to go by) -- while Nathaniel was eyeing her as if unsure of her current mental state.

Hawke had to admit it was a valid concern. She had heard Merrill’s voice as clearly as if she’d been sat beside her. A dream? Perhaps, but it hadn’t felt that way….

Gingerly she pulled her feet from Anders lap and smoothed out her rumbled sleeping clothes. 

“Just thought I heard something, must be over-tired. Are you alright taking first watch, Nathaniel?” The archer merely nodded, not looking altogether reassured. 

“Alright then, I’ll take second, Anders can have third.” She said her goodnight’s and thanked Anders for the healing, realizing as soon as she stood what a difference it really made. 

As soon as she settled down on her bedroll Hawke she heard Anders excuse himself from the fire outside and turn in. Dylan knew it might just be coincidence, as it had been a long day and was getting pretty late, but Hawke liked to think he’d been staying up to be with her. It felt nice on her ego, anyways.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Anders arrived at the Hawke estate the most of the others had already gone to sleep. Seemingly without discussing it, they had all set up camp there for the time being. Leandra didn’t seem to mind, and Bodahn and Orana were being more than welcoming. 

The mood, however, was somber. Already two days were past and there had been no news. Varrics connections in Kirkwall had turned up nothing, and the dwarf had already contacted those he had stationed throughout the Free Marches, but it would take quite a bit longer to hear back.

As far as they could tell Hawke had disappeared into thin air. Despite the late hour, there had been many witnesses who saw her enter the Alienage with Merrill and Isabela, but none had seen her leave. Isabela and Merrill told the same story each time they were questioned: They had come upon her in the Hanged Man attempting to drink herself into oblivion. She had been distraught and neither woman wanted to leave her alone for the evening -- though she wouldn’t speak a peep about what had put her in such a mood. Ultimately they had taken her back to Merrills house, hoping that a night giving each other makeovers and telling stories of their childhood would put her in a better mood. Neither of them could remember actually going to sleep, but had woken partway through the night with aching heads and no Hawke.

The best guess seemed to be that someone had used magic to put the three of them to sleep before capturing Hawke. Though no one knew how said villain may have escaped. Or why Hawke hadn’t simply woken up and murdered him. Or why there had been no demands, no ransom. As worried as the others were they seemed comforted by the knowledge that Hawke was no delicate flower, she could take care of herself.

For some reason, that did nothing to sooth Anders. It only made her mysterious absence all the more disturbing.

Anders dragged his exhausted body into the nearest empty guestroom, not even bothering to take off his shoes or turn down the covers before flopping to the mattress. In the past few nights he had slept little, even for him. Normal Grey Warden dreams interrupted by nightmares of Hawke. Hawke bleeding, Hawke crying out for help, Hawke dead.

Hawke trembling as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Eyes wide and pleading with him to just tell her _'why?'._

For the second time in as many days Anders was awoken by the slamming of a door. There was a sudden scrambling of feet through the halls as everyone hurried to see what caused the disturbance. By the time Anders reached the foot of the stairs it was to find a hysterical Merrill being coaxed into a state of semi-coherence by Varric.

“Ok, Daisy. Take a deep breath. That’s good. Now, tell us what happened.”

“I saw Hawke, or, at least I think I did. I don’t know, it all happened so fast. One second I was trying to lure a rat out of my wall with cheese and then suddenly I heard people talking. They said Hawke’s name, --or something that sounded like it. I ran into the room but I only caught a glimpse of her face in the eluvian before it disappeared. I called out to her but I don’t think she could hear me. Maybe--”

“Your _mirror_ did **this!?** How many times did Hawke tell you to leave it be, if you had only listened maybe she would still be here!”

“Blondie!”

“This is what happens when you stoop to making deals with demons and using blood magic.”

“Blondie, you aren’t helping.”

“I would never do anything to hurt Hawke, she’s my friend!”

Anders had a very choice response to that, but Varric held up his hand sharply. 

“Ok, now, think Daisy. Do you remember anything else, anything at all? What did the voices say other than ‘Hawke’? Did she look injured?”

“No, no, she looked unconscious -- I mean, not unconscious... like she was sleeping. I couldn’t make out the words though. They were definitely men, and I think I’d heard one of them before but it was too quiet to tell. I’m so sorry.” Merrill hung her head, looking every bit as worn out as Anders felt. 

There was much speculation after that, they agreed that the mirror would be moved to the estate and watched at all times. Isabella and Merrill would lead a party to Sundermount in the morning to consult the keeper while Fenris, Varric, and Aveline decided they would spend their energy keeping the city unaware of Hawke’s absence. As bad as Kirkwall was already, without Hawke to keep order Anders had no doubt the city would fall to chaos within a month’s time.

As for the Abomination…it seemed the group had taken pity on him. Anders had been assigned to guard the Elivian and watch for any sign of Hawke, any sign of _anything,_ day and night. Merrill had also brought him all books she possessed on the subject so that he would have something to do while he waited.

Justice was vocally unhappy with the situation.

Anders couldn’t possibly have cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a great 4th of July.
> 
> Only one more week until I move to California. I am so very worried/excited!
> 
> :D
> 
> Thanks for all the Comments and Kudos. I've never really had anyone read my stuff before. I'm glad someone other than me enjoys it.


	6. Chapter 6

According to Varric, Anders was crazy about her. _‘You’d have to be blind not to see it.’_ He’d said. So why did he keep turning her away?

Dylan wanted to believe there was a chance, really, she did. It’s why she never gave up, no matter how many times he told her they couldn’t be together. No matter how many times he let her down easy. 

In her desperation to believe him Hawke had managed to convince herself that he had only been trying to protect her. She had allowed herself to become so deluded that she believed he was only pushing her away because of his self-hatred -- because he believed she deserved better.

Please, he was a powerful mage and healer who had devoted his entire life to helping those less fortunate than himself. Not to mention changing the entire system of governing magic on Thedas. How could she have ever believed that _he_ would want her. Despite all the trappings of nobility that she could afford now that she had moved to hightown, Dylan knew at her heart she would always be an unsophisticated, overly-violent, farm girl.

With a sharp gasp Hawke woke drenched in her own sweat. Maker, and she thought nightmares of darkspawn were bad. They paled in comparison to reliving his rejection over and over and over. 

And somehow she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she dreamt of it.

Whatever had brought her here had shaken her enough that the memories of her last 24 hours in Kirkwall had been repressed, however temporarily. Now, they came trickling back in as she slept, and Hawke wished desperately that they could have stayed gone forever.

She remembered every excruciating moment of it. Anders’ eyes, normally so warm and comforting, hardened with annoyance as she came on to him one final time. Once she worked up the nerve to confess her love he couldn’t even look at her. Maker, he must hate her so much now. After all the chances he had given her, all the heated glances and suggestive remarks she had made. By Andraste she had practically been sexually harassing him, she couldn’t believe he tolerated it as long as he did.

Sighing deeply Hawke sat up and hung her head between her knees. Breathing deeply to calm her heartbeat and dampen her raging emotions. Mentally, she began to sift through the memories, her concentration slowly parting the fog that had hidden them from view.

Anders rejections was clear...then….a blank. A rage of emotion and pain. Hawke was unsure if this mist was caused by her ‘transportation’ or whether she merely could not remember beyond the distress. Then there was the hanged man, cornering Varric in his suite. Drinking herself into oblivion. She hadn’t been trying to kill herself, not consciously at least, she just hadn’t wanted to feel anymore.

Then ‘Bela came. Warm and comforting, smelling of whiskey and the sea. Merrill, dragging her delicate elven fingers through Hawke’s tangled hair. Dylan remembered leaning on their shoulders, laughing hysterically at something, as they led her slowly to the alienage and then…..

A sudden wave of nausea and panic overwhelmed her and Hawke could not reach fresh air fast enough. She scrambled through her tent flap gracelessly and dragged her fingers through her hair in relief as she gulped down the cool morning air. The grass was wet with dew beneath her mostly naked legs and a light breeze alerted her to the slight chill. Her lack of smalls suddenly becoming apparent as her nipples tightened against the soft fabric of her sleep shirt.

Anders was sat by the fire, hand halfway to his staff, no doubt startled by the sudden commotion as she burst from her tent. Now, however, his gaze was fixed steadily on her chest. Hawke silently thanked the Maker for giving her such an easy escape route from this awkwardness.

“I know it’s called a _‘watch’_ , but traditionally one looks out for enemies, not tits.”

He met her eyes and blushed. Actually _blushed._ She didn’t know Anders was capable of being embarrassed, not about sex anyhow.

“I, um...I…”

“You…?”

The mage cleared his throat and finally remembered to drop his arm back to his side. 

“Nightmares?” He asked, finally, though the silence had stretched thick between them for a solid five seconds. Dylan was hard pressed not to enjoy the obvious sexual tension there. 

She gave him a curt nod and reached back into her tent to grab her blanket (making sure to use the motion to her advantage, giving him a nice view of her shapely backside) before joining him by the fire, settling on the pile of spare firewood to avoid the moist dirt. 

Of course, her nightmares were of the decidedly non-darkspawn variety, no reason to tell him that though. Hawke hadn’t elaborated and he was free to assume what he wanted. There was no reason to feel guilty, she told herself. There was also no reason to want to lean against him for comfort. 

Maker, she needed to stop thinking of this Anders the same way she thought of _hers._

“Do you feel something... _odd?_ ”

“What?” Dylan looked up at him, confused. She had allowed herself to drift off, eyes blurring as she gazed into the fire.

“I’m not sure, just _something._ It’s like seeing something just on the edge of your vision, except in my mind. Oh, bugger it, I’m not explaining it well at all....”

“No, I know what you mean. I feel it too.” And now that she knew to look for it, she **did.** There was definitely something new there. Hawke had just been too distracted with her memories to realize it.

“I think it’s the darkspawn.” That _was_ part of being a warden right, being able to sense the darkspawn. It was surprising though, this was supposed to be the work of bandits. Surely if it had been darkspawn killing travelers this whole time someone would have noticed. The creatures weren’t usually _subtle_ with their murders.

An image of the Withered flashed in her mind, and Dylan realized with a dawning clarity that the “usual” anything probably wasn’t going to be a factor here.

Suddenly she was on her feet. Already heading towards Oghren's tent.

“Start packing, I’m going to wake the others.”

He looked at her, clearly surprised by her reaction. “Bu-”

“The darkspawn are our responsibility, and they are much more dangerous than a few bandits. We need to take care of this problem _now.”_

It was the first time she’d used her ‘I mean business’ voice with this Anders, and he bristled at it instantly. Immediately, Hawke realized her mistake. This Anders had spent most of his life in the circle, being bossed around and bullied by templars. He didn’t respond well to orders. Rebellion was just in his nature.

“I’m sorry,” Dylan was quick to get out in front of this before he closed himself off “I’m just as new to this Warden thing as you are, but the darkspawn are our responsibility. I really don’t want them to regret putting me in charge first week on the job.” Hawke grimaced, sometimes she really hated the part of her that couldn’t just let things be. If she just minded her own business she could probably avoid ending up in such shitty situations, with everyone looking to her.

Thankfully, Anders decided to take pity on her and not be difficult. Dylan shook Oghren awake as gently as she could (which wasn’t _very_ , considering how much he drank last night), turning to take her tent apart the mage called out to her once more, “You might want to wear your big girl armor today though, unless you think the darkspawn will be as distracted by your, um, _womanly charms_ as I was!”

Immediately Hawke felt the back of her neck heat with a flush of embarrassment. Ducking into her partially dismantled tent (hopefully) before he could see. Some leather and chainmail would have to do. It was the only other set of armor in her size that they were carrying. The Warden plate had been too heavy to take along. Really though, wearing any armor at all was just a precaution. With her stoneskin spell (an adaptation of rock armor) and her arcane shield, Dylan could probably fight just as well in her small clothes -- She should be fine as long as they didn’t run into any darkspawn with templar abilities.

Did they even make those?

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was only slightly humiliating that everyone else finished packing up before she did. Well, at least they were waiting patiently.

Or keeping busy, more like. Anders had found some elfroot and was occupied gathering as much as they could carry. Oghren was busy getting shitfaced at -- from the look of the horizon -- not quite sixth bell. And Nate…..Nate appeared to have made a new friend, unless Dylan had somehow missed a wolf accompanying them for all of yesterday. Really, and people called her strange. At least she hadn’t started befriending the local wildlife.

_‘Yet’_ \-- A snarky little voice inside her head added.

 

Once they were on the road, the strange feeling in her brain became an itch, then a buzz growing louder and louder with every step.

In an effort to distract herself she began to swap stories with Oghren, which quickly descended into a competition. Hawke had no doubt the dwarf would best her eventually, she only had so many stories of crazy drunken nights at the Hanged Man, compared to his lifetime of stories from Tappers in Orzammar. But it was meant to pass the time more than anything. 

After only a day Dylan already missed the easy banter she had with her friends in Kirkwall. So far the only person here who had made any effort to have a conversation with her (that didn’t involve asking for her help with something) was Anders. And she wasn’t delusional enough to think that had anything to do with her as a person. It hadn’t occurred to her until now, but from what she knew of Anders’ past he hadn’t been free from the circle very long at this point. Only a few months since he’d been removed from solitary. Most of which would have been spent on the run -- it was a long way from Lake Calenhad to Amaranthine after all.. He was probably just desperate to get his dick wet. It would have been a _long_ time since he’d had a chance…

_Maybe._

Just in the last few hours Hawke had ricocheted back and forth at least twenty times about his intentions towards her. And hers towards him. It was giving her more of a headache than the fucking taint. Should they just sleep together, just be friends, maybe nurture something deeper? **Gah!** She couldn’t think about this anymore. Her damned head was spinning.

“I think I see something moving up ahead.” Nathaniel’s voice broke through the fog of her thoughts. Oghren had been talking to her but she hadn’t been listening. A sudden silence fell over the group and Dylan motioned for the rogue to go check it out. 

He disappeared into the shadows of the forest as the rest of them readied their weapons.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sticking to a schedule of 1 post every 3 days, or trying to. I think I'm a day late this time. Sorry. In my defense I am nasty sick, I've probably been conscious maybe 12 hours out of the last 72.
> 
> Didn't mean to make anymore wait. It won't happen again.
> 
> BTW - I can't seem to find a fic on here that I really liked. I've tried searching everything I can think of but it never comes up. Maybe I dreamed it. But if anyone reading this knows the story where Isabela accidentally locks the door the night Anders is supposed to come to Hawke - leading to much angst and misunderstanding. - I would be very appreciative.
> 
> kthnxbai


	7. Chapter 7

Quicker than Hawke thought possible, Nathaniel returned. 

“Bandits.” was all he said. Dylan nodded and they approached together, trying to make minimal amounts of noise. Fortunately, Anders’ inexperience in combat didn’t seem to matter here. All that hiding from Templars must have taught him to move quietly. 

Still, they couldn’t all be rogues.

Despite their impressively silent approach, the bandits heard them. Though instead of losing the preemptive strike, it looked as if they might lose their enemies. In place of attacking, the bandits took one look their forces and ran in the opposite direction. Briefly, the group shared a confused look before pursuing them. Hawke and Nathaniel pulling quickly ahead of Oghren and Anders. Short legs and long robes hindering their speed.

Ahead of them the bandits pulled to a sudden stop, they were….

 _Fuck._ Hawke flung her arm out, bringing Nathaniel to an abrupt stop. He shot her an angry look of confusion until she jerked her head in the direction the bandits were looking. A dalish elf stood on the hill above them, obviously a mage. Too young for a keeper, did Dalish elves even have mages in their clans that weren’t keepers or their firsts? No idea. 

_‘Note to self, if I ever get back home, pay more attention to Merrill’s stories.’_

_‘Dammit Dylan, Focus!’_

“Another scavenger here to prey on the misfortunes of others? No, you are too well armed. Here for me then?”

 _Yikes_ , look at the attitude on this one. The bandits were clearly afraid of her, could it have been this elf that attacked the travelers? Not the darkspawn?

Stange, Dylan could clearly still feel them nearby. All around them really, she could scarcely believe they hadn’t encountered any yet. Something was definitely up. Thinking of the darkspawn as potentially having a scheme or laying a trap boggled her mind and set her teeth on edge more than just a little. Hawke had to consider that it might be a real possibility though. Surely the Withered was not the last of its ilk.

The dalish woman’s attention fell on the Wardens and the bandits took advantage of her distraction to run for their lives. Hawke couldn’t blame them, she had committed her fair share of crimes, many far worse than highway robbery. Certainly she wasn’t going to kill them for picking over scraps -- and Dylan sincerely doubted they had killed anyone. Didn’t seem to have the stomach (more like the _balls_ ) for it.

The elf didn’t even seem to notice their retreat. Directing her angry tirade at the new arrivals. 

“You will not drive me from these forests. The shems could not do it, the darkspawn could not, and you with fare no better!”

What a bitch. _Maker_ , no wonder Anders thought all dalish women were crazy. If he had only this cunt (who Hawke assumed was the -- _Velera? Valna? Definitely something with a ‘V’_ \--- **elf** she’d heard about) and Merrill to draw from. Dylan really didn’t want this woman on her side, but according to history she would be recruiting her...eventually. 

Hindsight being perfect an’ all, Hawke suddenly wished she’d sat Her Anders down to make a timeline of these shitty events.

“Your kind have been hounding me for months! You killed my friends, and the merchants kidnapped my sister!”

Wait...did that mean….

“The caravans are only the beginning. I want Seranni returned to me, or...or more will die. Deliver this message.”

Hawke saw red. This elf had been murdering travelers for weeks, possibly months, just because her clan had died and her sister had been taken. Was she so delusional that she thought all humans of the same ilk. She should know better, surely if asked she would claim no kinship to the city elves. Probably would not even acknowledge them as part of the people. 

_‘Deliver this message my supple ass….I’ll report right back to the king of all humans and tell him you’re a humongous twat. Getting right on that.”_

She should be able to sympathize. She had lost Bethany to the darkspawn, lost Carver to the templars. Yet she could not empathize with this madness. This was mindless slaughter. She would give the keeper a chance, a **single** chance, but that was all. Unless she showed a change of heart post haste, Hawke would not hesitate to strike her down.

“Consider this a warning.”

With an unnecessary show of power, V-? (damnit, she _knew_ this, it was on the tip of her tongue) **the bitch** disappeared into the ground in a cocoon of roots. 

_‘She’s posturing, putting on a display of magic to intimidate us.’_

It made her seem less a murderous psychopath and more a scared little girl, and for a moment Dylan thought about reconsidering her opinion. 

_Nope._

The elf may be lashing out like a child but that only made her all the more dangerous, and probably less likely to listen to reason too.

Fuming silently, Hawke turned to the rest of the group and gestured for them to follow. There _were_ darkspawn here after all, they would attend to that first. Chasing down the crazed elf would have to happen later.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time they ran out of daylight Hawke was feeling physically ill, and she couldn’t seem to blame it on one single thing -- more like the clusterfuck of awful that had been the last sixteen hours.

Meeting the elf, the constant mental presence of darkspawn, combined with the lack of actual presence of any. 

The tainted soldier whose throat Dylan slit out of pity. 

The pile of decaying corpses thrown haphazardly into a mass grave.

The fact that she really _really_ needed to kill something that wasn’t an innocent forest animal just trying to protect its home, or a fucking tree bewitched by the elf.

And _now --_ the icing on the fucking cake -- they just happened to make camp by some fucking creepy fucking talking fucking statues.

Hawke could swear she was one **fucking** away from tearing her hair out.

**FUCK!**

Too bad she had to stay calm and be a leader.

A cool hand pressed to the back of her neck made her startle, relaxing immediately when it was only Anders.

Well, not _only_ Anders, there wasn’t really anything _‘only’_ about Anders. Still... not a threat. That was always good.

 _‘Well, maybe a threat to your heart’_ an annoying little voice from within her own head chimed.

To which she heartily replied (at herself): _‘shut the fuck up.’_

She felt a warm pulse of healing magic flow through her, sweeping from the tip of her nose to the balls of her feel. The headache she hadn’t even realized she’d had fading into a pleasant numbness. Even her stomach stopped roiling quite so much. Though Dylan had a suspicion that had nothing to do with Anders’ magic so much as his hand on her neck and his soothing presence.

Was it weird to find him even more attractive when he was in healer mode like this?

 _‘Pretty sure it’s supposed to be relaxing, not arousing.’_ she scolded herself.

Hawke closed her eyes and leaned a little further into his touch (smooth hands, she noted, no battle hardened callouses yet) and took some deep, steadying breaths before meeting his eyes and smiled warmly.

“Thank you .. I didn’t even realize how much I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” He said simply, meeting her eyes.

A few tense -- at least on her end -- moments passed between them. And despite her aching, well, _everything_ Hawke wanted to lean in and kiss him for hours. Nothing heated or passionate, just slow. _deep._ kisses.

It must have showed in her eyes too because she watched his pupils dilate with arousal as he tilted his head to the right, slightly, as if he was going to --

Pull back?

Why in Thedas did he pull back?

Brushing the bits of dirt and twigs off of his robe, from kneeling beside her, he stood quickly and looked deliberately away. Keeping his profile towards her as he spoke, though Dylan could still see the light blush colouring his cheeks. “Nathaniel said he was going to hunt something fresh for a stew, I should get started boiling water. Maker knows Oghren’s not going to beat me to it.” He chuckled weakly and busied himself with one of their packs. 

Honestly...the man would be the death of her.

As it was becoming increasingly clear to Hawke, with each interaction between them, Anders had the exact same intimacy issues as she did. Confident to the point of conceit when flirting or making sexual advances -- but the very _moment_ things got too romantic, or emotional or sensitive or even the least bit **meaningful** \-- he clammed up like the village prude.

Ah...there it was again. The urge to scream and tear her hair out. 

_‘Wish I could say I missed you, old friend.’_

She couldn’t help but sigh. 

They were never going to make progress like this - unless one of them manned up and accepted the fact that there were actual _feelings_ involved. 

Whether that was a good or bad thing Dylan couldn’t seem to decide. The very thought of being with Anders, _any_ Anders, made her heart stutter and her blood heat.

But when she thought of returning to Kirkwall, of having to face _her_ Anders knowing that she’d slept with this one. Well, it made her chest ache - for starters.

It felt like cheating. Even though it definitely shouldn’t.

Hawke had promised her Anders _nothing._ She pined over him for years, gave him every opportunity, cherished each scrap of affection he threw her way. For Andraste’s sake...He was the one who turned _Her_ down. There was no reason for her to feel guilty over this.

Dammit, she owed him **nothing!**

-

**“Oghren!”**

On her feet in a second Hawke stalked over to where the dwarf was spinning around like a madman, chopping --- neigh _attacking_ \-- a nearby tree for firewood.

“Oghren!”

He came to a stop with a graceless stumble. “Wuzzat?”

“Where do you keep your stores of ale?”

Immediately focused, he eyed her up and down for a moment before scoffing. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t handle my backwash let alone the original product. You look like more of an ‘orlesian brandy’ girl than a dwarven whisk--”

More than mildly insulted with his assessment of her, Hawke snatched his own flask (more like waterskin really) off his hip and took a long swing. Making a show of swallowing it wince-free before belching in his face.

For a split second the dwarf actually looked stunned….before he burst out in a hearty guffaw and socked her on the back. “Now that’s more like it! Hah! Guess you aren’t Commander for nuthin’ after all.” 

All she gave him in response was a cocky smile before happily skipping off to help the dwarf rid himself of a bottle or two. Not caring a bit about the hangover she was likely to have tomorrow. Anders could just cure it for her anyhow -- maybe they could even have another lovely moment of awkward self-denial and confusing sexual tension.

Eh, better not. Then she would have to drink herself blind again and it would just spiral out of control from that point. Strangely enough, becoming an alcoholic was not high on her to-do list at the moment.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Oghren finished ~~chopping~~ ~~murdering~~ gathering firewood he joined Hawke where she sat by her tent (which had been _coincidentally_ placed far, **far** away from the firepit and therefore from Anders). Then the real drinking began. 

Not coincidentally, this also coincided with her catching a glimpse of Anders, flirting shamelessly with Nathaniel over stew. And Hawke simply couldn’t help but notice that this time he _didn’t_ practically run away from his partner - Not that she was bitter or anything.

Despite having no self-delusions about her ability to handle alcohol, Hawke still allowed herself to be goaded into a drinking game. A _dwarven_ drinking game, by Oghren -- who as far as Dylan was concerned was probably composed of more alcohol than blood at this point. 

So it should have come as no big surprise to her when her memories of the night cut off sharply around the point when she and Oghren started comparing dirty tavern songs; and picked up as she felt her previously unconscious body being, somewhat awkwardly, packed into her bedroll by gentle hands. 

Gentle, smooth, uncalloused hands.

Healers hands. 

Still intoxicated, her body practically purred at the thought of Anders anywhere _near_ her bed. Though she didn’t realize until she felt the vibrations from her lips that she was _actually_ purring. Vaguely Dylan thought she should be humiliated by that, but in her semi-conscious state she couldn’t be arsed.

Through the fog of alcohol and sleep she felt her lips form some slurred and heavy words. Earning her a soft chuckle and some stray bits of hair brushed off her forehead. 

Gathering the scraps of her willpower together Hawke strained to open her eyes just a sliver, wanting to look at his face before she passed out once more; Only managing to catch a glimpse of his fond smile, though Anders wasn’t looking at her face, before she heard him softly mumble a sleep spell and was sent reeling back into the fade.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho' crap, only 2 more days until I get on a plane to California. 
> 
> To live there.
> 
> Permanently.
> 
> I feel like I should be freaking out, but really I'm just ready to be done with all this moving shit.
> 
> Anyways, thanks everyone for reading. And a SPECIAL thanks to mrwiggums for linking me to that fanfic I was craving.
> 
> Hope everyone has a great weekend.
> 
> Bye Bye :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long. 
> 
> Never having moved before I didn't quite expect the mayhem that was relocating across the country.
> 
> I wish I could at least say I love it here, but honestly I'm not sure yet.
> 
> Anyways, for a few weeks posting will probably be erratic. Much to Do. I won't promise to stay on a schedule anymore, that's for sure.
> 
> PS: Is anyone else sooper bummed that they put back the release of Inquisition by more than a month. Sigh. Grrrr. Frustrated Noises Galore.

When she first awoke, Hawke attributed her parched mouth and her spinning head to the gratuitous alcohol consumption from the night before. However, as she slowly returned from the fade she knew more and more that was not the case.

Events from the past twenty-four hours came rushing back in, fragmented, but telling a coherent story nonetheless. 

More awkwardness as Anders healed her hangover. Promising to return and kill the magister for those creeeeepy talking statues. Running into a strange mage woman looking for a rare flower. _FINALLY_ getting to fight some darkspawn. Returning to the ruined dalish camp to confront ‘Velanna’ (she **had** been close, dammit). Accepting the elf’s help temporarily as they searched the ruins. 

There was a gap then. She remembered the strange emissary. The Architect -- that’s what it had called itself. A strangely appropriate name, considering what it claimed to have done. She remembered talking to it, though the actual words seemed far away. Then….fighting drakes, darkspawn, more darkspawn….and…and then...

Waking up **here.**

The emissary was a powerful mage no doubt, it could have put their little party to sleep without a problem, especially since all of them were exhausted from such a drawn-out fight.

Just rising to a sitting position made her head go fuzzy and the world spin dangerously. Not the normal side effects of a sleep spell -- What else had that creature done to them, she wondered?

“You’re awake?” it sounded like a question, but no doubt Anders could tell from her searching eyes and her movements that that was the case. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the energy to spare snarking at him for pointing out the obvious.

Her eyes found his lidded ones. His body was propped against the wall, his limb shaking with the strain of standing. 

Why hadn’t he healed himself? Surely whatever had been done to them was not beyond his skills.

As if sensing her thoughts, he answered that very question as he hobbled to her side.

“We’re missing blood, quite a bit of it actually. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why. Maybe it’s some sort of twisted revenge for the blood we steal for the joining.” He sighed and lowered himself cautiously to the ground by her side. “Ironically, I’m too weak from blood loss to actually heal my blood loss.” He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, his hair tie must have been lost some time during their scuffle, as his blonde locks fell messily almost to his shoulders.

He looked her over and forced what was probably supposed to be a flirtatious smile.. “At least they left _me_ fully clothed.”

Alarmed, she looked down at herself. How had she not noticed her armor was gone. They had taken all of Anders’ enchanted gear, but left him with the loose shirt, and thin breeches most mages wore under their robes (no matter what Anders said about them being for easy access, most mages she knew wore _at least_ smalls under there). 

Dylan had not been so fortunate. The leather armor she had ended up choosing for their adventures was too form-fitting to wear much underneath. She was left with only her breast band, the thin,sleeveless cotton shirt she wore to avoid chafing, and her smalls.

_ ‘Wonderful’ _

A small, slightly hysterical, giggle burst from her lips without warning and Anders shot her an almost appalled look.

“Sorry.” she attempted to explain herself quickly, lest he think she’d lost her mind under the stress. “It’s just, I have this friend who likes to write smutty stories. And it just occured to me that I think I’ve read this particular one before.” She swallowed another ridiculous laugh as she recalled reading the particular ‘friend fiction’ in question. 

“If her tales are at all accurate, then someone should be showing up any second to tell us we need to either have mind-blowing sex...or _die._ ”

Hawke almost winced at the look he gave her in response to that explanation. She’d never seen _her_ Anders’ eyes go quite so wide. Then, not unsurprisingly, he burst into laughter. 

“You’re ridiculous.” he added once he had quieted down, the tone of laughter still on his tongue. “Strangely optimistic, but definitely ridiculous.” Yet he smiled brightly as he looked at her, the last of the awkwardness that had plagued them since the tension at camp finally evaporating.

“Would one of you care to tell me _exactly_ what about our current situation you find _so_ amusing?” 

“Glad to see you’re awake Velanna.” She answered offhandedly. It was the only acknowledgement Hawke was willing to grant her, and (as predicted) the elf just scoffed in return.

“I will never understand you Shemlen. The darkspawn have my sister, and we are unarmed and caged. Yet you sit around making jokes and... _eyeing_ each-other like Halla in heat.”

“You slept well then?” Anders said, and it was Dylan’s turn to break into giggles.

Velanna shot back something filled with her usual vitriol, but Hawke was too busy crawling over to check on Oghren and Nathaniel to pay attention to the words.

As soon as she gave him a solid shake Nathaniel began coming to, Oghren however, merely let out an agitated snort and rolled to his other side, adjusting himself in his sleep.

_‘Charming’_

Without a doubt it was disturbing to even think of Oghren as having private parts. Let alone to watch him fondle himself, unconscious or no.

“Makers breath, my head. What’s happened?” 

Seriously, it was bad enough to see the dwarf in a state of undress, then he had to go and…

“Hawk -- eh-- **Commander?** ”

It must have looked strange to the others, her staring at the unconscious and scantily clad dwarf for so long. Nathaniel was looking annoyed, while Anders had an eyebrow raised in question.

Dylans eyes were drawn quickly back to the archer though, when she realized he no longer wore a shirt...

How had she not noticed before how attractive he was? Suddenly she didn’t fault Anders for his fireside flirtation quite so much. Nathaniel Howe was quite the appetizing specimen himself... if you set aside the attitude problems, and gratuitous brooding.

Well, nose aside, and she was already getting use to that. It wasn’t _so_ bad, and if you squinted the word _‘distinguished’_ could be used. Though she expected most people would chose _‘ ~~huge~~ beak’._

“Hawke.” Anders this time. For Andraste’s sake, even _she_ wasn’t usually this spacey…... Though that thin line of dark hair below his navel could use a bit more appreciation. 

_‘Dammit Dylan, massive blood loss can only excuse so much.’_

She finally got her thoughts back under control to notice Nathaniel flushed and looking almost _shy_ under her scrutiny and Anders’ brow furrowed in... _jealousy?_ annoyance maybe? His eyes spoke of barely concealed panic though; and that, more than anything else, spurred Hawke into action.

Of course he would fear being locked up, the mage probably had enough bad memories involving cells of some kind to last a life. Dylan wouldn’t let him spend a second longer than necessary being locked up from this moment on.

All business, she rose to her feet; only pausing for a moment to steady herself before marching over to inspect the lock. Behind her she heard Nathaniel trying to rouse Oghren and Anders...telling Velanna that he liked women with tattoos?

Hawke shook her head. He was doing it to distract himself. Flirting was better than worrying about being stuck in a jail cell deep underground, that was certain. 

The time for jealousy and worrying about losing Anders’ attention was later. 

Plans for escape already stewed in her brain. Perhaps she could have Anders or Velanna superheat and supercool the lock until it was ready to shatter. That worked on weapons and armor, Hawke knew as much already. Would it work equally well on iron bars?

Maybe if she waiting a bit longer for her Mana to recover she could magically enhance her strength enough to bend the bars? 

Perhaps--

“Seranni?” Hawke heard Velanna's surprised gasp from the back of the cell, and only a moment later the elf’s lithe form crashed against the bars beside her. She didn’t seem fazed at all. Perhaps the darkspawn had only taken from the Grey Wardens among them. That would make sense. She and Anders had been weakened, yes, but the sleep spell still could only hold them for so long -- both of them being mages.

Oghren would likely take longer to wake since he had been both drained and spelled unconscious. Despite his dwarven resistance to magic.

Hawke paid little attention to the conversation between sisters, too busy planning their escape until she heard the clank of metal and creaking of a door.

The bars to their cell were open, Seranni had come to free them, used a key?

Seranni bid her sister an annoyingly _long_ farewell, and disappeared into the shadows of the cave. 

Hawke looked warily back at the others. They needed to go _now_. But though Oghren had finally awakened, he was not yet even on his feet. They were all unarmed. Hawke’s mana had not recovered, and she knew Anders was in a similar situation.

They needed time, they needed rest and mana potions. The needed health poultices.

Dammit, they ** _needed_** those things, well an truly -- but they didn’t have the luxury.

They had to go _now_ , before the darkspawn came. Before ‘The Architect’ realized that they had been released.

One look at the rest her companions and Hawke knew they were thinking along the same lines. All expressions grim but determined. 

Back in Kirkwall, Hawke might have given a speech, tried to inspire them. 

But these weren’t her ragtag band of mercenaries back home. These were warriors, these were Grey Wardens (Velanna excluded). Soldiers sworn to an order that _embraced_ death in the line of duty. Even Anders had a hard, determined look on his face.

It was sad, but heartening, in its own way.

In the end Dylan merely nodded, and did the best she could to prepare herself for battle -- taking her first step out of the door as she felt the buzzing in her head grow louder. A very unfortunate handful of darkspawn coming into view around a corner.

Only four, well armed with **THEIR** old equipment too. 

Hawke felt the pull of magic as Velanna conjured chain-lightning behind her…fighting back a surprised smile.

Maybe they weren’t so shit-out-of-luck after all.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 Chapters in 2 days.
> 
> I really wasn't planning on it. I thought I would be too busy. (And I probably should have been, honestly.)
> 
> But I woke up in an inspired kind of mood and ended up cranking out about four new chapters for this story today. Figured I should post one, seemed silly not to. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> PS: A few people in the comments have expressed a desire for this fic to head in a direction that it is now definitely not heading. Sorry about that. It was planned from the start though, so I promise I'm not doing it to spite you.
> 
> :)

It was entirely beyond Anders’ comprehension how Merrill had kept herself occupied with this mirror for so long. If this truly _was_ the bulk of her research - the intimidating pile she had left him to study- then he honestly could not understand what she had been doing for nearly six years.

An afternoon was all it had taken the healer to skim through the elf’s notes on the subject. None of this looked promising. 

Of course, were he to actually read the material cover to cover and take notes of his own it would take weeks...perhaps months if he continued his work at the clinic. Still, Merrill had been focusing the entirety of her attention and energy on this one thing for _years_. Anders had always assumed-- despite her innocent appearance and naive attitude --that the blood mage must at least be _book smart_ if she planned on tackling such an important (in her words) task.

Apparently, not the case…..It was just occurring to him now that perhaps the girl just wasn’t very good at this sort of thing.

A small _‘wuff’_ at his side drew Anders’ attention to Hawke’s mabari. Poor thing. Ever since his master had disappeared the creature just seemed so put out. 

Anders could sympathize, he felt exactly the same. 

He wondered how much of the situation the beast truly understood. It was all well and good for Leandra to insist that he could understand human speech, but could the animal truly grasp the complexity of the situation. Did he understand that his master was missing? That she might never come back?… **.No.** She _would_ come back, she had to.

A full scale bark startled the mage and Anders shot a scandalized look towards the hound. 

“Hush. I miss her too, but you’ll wake the others.” Anders honestly wasn’t sure who was staying here tonight. Isabela at least, she’d hardly even left the estate since Hawke disappeared. 

The group had returned from Sundermount only hours ago, exhausted and dejected by the lack of information they’d managed to find. Marethari had been unable to help, to point them in any direction -- right or no. All the keeper had been able to offer was a warning that whatever the mirror showed may not be truthful. It was a powerful magical object, and it could definitely lie.

The group had relayed that part of her advice, and thought it best to keep the words in mind. However, Marethari’s departing plea for them to just get rid of the mirror - lest it cause more trouble - had fallen on deaf ears. Despite how much grief they had all given Merrill at one time or another, counseling her to rid herself of the cursed thing before it brought more tragedy into her life…….

When it finally came down to it. When the Eluvian held something they _all_ wanted: the only hint to finding Hawke.

Once it had value to them - _well_ \- suddenly it seemed they were much more sympathetic.

“Hey!” Anders was jerked harshly to the side as Riot pulled on the fabric at his wrist. A ripping sound made him wince, _damned beast..._ Like his robes weren’t raggedy enough already.

He turned himself bodily towards the animal, prepared to scold him for acting like such a...well, an animal, when he noticed _why_ the dog had been trying so tirelessly to get his attention.

Muted colors flashed against the walls of the room, lighting up the empty dining hall with dim tints of blue light. 

Light coming from the Eluvian.

“Good Boy.” He muttered as he stood, resting his hand briefly on the dog’s head in a half-hearted petting motion, moving cautiously in front of the artifact. Inspecting the image (the colors?) that it was reflecting straight on.

It wasn’t a picture, per-se. Or...well, not a clear one, at least.

There were colors and shapes, figures with blurred lines and dulled features. Like a room viewed through glass or from beneath water. 

There were shapes that _might_ be people, or more likely darkspawn, given their background. Anders had seen enough of the deep roads (or just dank, dark, caverns - perhaps) that he could recognize them blindfolded. Blurry wasn’t even a challenge. 

There was a strange popping sound, and Anders swore he could feel the atmosphere in the room shift. 

Suddenly there was sound.

A dog barking, almost an identical timbre to the sound made by his furry companion not a full minute ago. 

Still foggy, the image changed. There was a Mabari on the glass. Bigger and far more scarred from battle than Hawke’s glorified house pet. It was covered in warpaint, a shocking white against it’s thick black fur. With the image still so unclear it was hard to make out the pattern, but Anders thought it might be an image of the beasts skeleton.

Odd, he’d never seen markings like that before.

“Stop right there. Not one more step, or I am gone.”

The words spoke of a harshness and a conviction that the woman’s tone could not backup. This was no voice Anders had ever heard before, and it was certainly not Hawke. Perhaps Merrill had been mistaken to begin with. Perhaps whatever this cursed mirror was up to now, it had nothing to do with Hawke at all… 

The very thought set his teeth on edge. 

Without warning the image switched to a small girl, no...an elf. He posture at odds with the heartbroken look of distress on her face. There was no room for ambiguity anymore, the image had become as clear as if looking through an open window. There was no Hawke here, but….

Yes, it was definitely her. The Tattoos were new, and she’d chopped off her long hair but that was...the girl from the circle, the one that always palled around with Jowan and Amell. He couldn’t remember her first name. But he remembered clearly the templars calling her Surana. 

The mirror was showing him a circle mage. 

A **dead** circle mage, in fact. He had heard from reliable sources that she died when the tower fell to demons. What in the Makers name was going on….

“It’s nice to see you again too, Morrigan.” he words were little more than a sigh. Reeking of disappointment, but not surprise. This was clearly not the reunion she had been hoping for. 

He listened with wary interest as the foreign mage began explaining the mirror. She called it an Eluvian, just like the one in front of him now. She claimed it was a portal, and that with one step she could use it to travel to a different plane of existence. That she would go far beyond Surana’s reach.

Something clicked into place in his mind and Anders had to take a deep breath to avoid devolving into a state of blind panic.

“Riot, go wake the others.” Either the mabari was fond enough of him to obey or recognized that his tone was an urgent one, but he merely barked in agreement and bound up the stairs.

The mirror was a portal. A portal to different realms, realms beyond reach of mortals. They could be activated and one step was all it took. 

Hawke was gone.

The mirror was a portal. 

She had disappeared from Merrill’s home, in the same room as the damned Eluvian. It could not be a coincidence.

_‘Maker, **no.** ’_

He didn’t want it to be true. But it seemed the most likely explanation. 

_“Take me with you!”_

 

The harsh cry brought his attention back to the Eluvian. Surana looked desperate, she was crying. They had been friends of a sort, slept together certainly. He knew this girl, he should care. Should feel sorry for her pain, should feel curious about this strange scene the mirror was showing him.

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Couldn’t feel anything past his fear for Hawke, past his own horror that she might be gone from his life….from even this _world_...forever. Well and truly beyond his reach. _Permanently._ More lost that she could even have been in death.

He watched as the witch -- Morrigan -- shot the elf down gently. It truly was a sad scene, and evoked more than a few memories of his own. Memories that seemed a life-time ago, instead of mere days. 

_‘Not yet a week even.’_

The witch gave Surana a kiss on the cheek and walked through the Eluvian, leaving the other mage to her tears. And the mirror went black.

No trace of the scene that had just taken place, just it’s strangely nonreflective surface gleaming at him….

At them.

Anders realized he wasn’t alone only when Varric conspicuously cleared his throat. Collecting himself as well he could, the healer turned to explain what he had seen...what he had heard.

Isabela opened her mouth first.

“I know that girl.”

“Who, the elf? Surana, I think her name is, I knew her in the circle...she’s supposed to be dead.” He spoke curtly, slightly annoyed. The women were unimportant, what _was_ important was his newfound knowledge about the mirror, and his rather alarming theory on what had really happened to Hawke. “Anyways, that doesn’t matter. What’s important is---”

“No, the other one. That’s Morrigan, I met her briefly back in Denerim, when I was spending time at the pearl. She was a mage, traveling with the Warden then. Rather unpleasant to be honest, dead sexy though. Pity she doesn’t swing that way….and with a confidence that just --”

“ _Focus,_ Rivaini.”

“So you met a woman in a brothel,” Anders didn’t even bother to mask the exasperation in his tone, “I don’t see how this is more pressing than --”

“Well if you would just _listen_ to me for a blighted minute, I was _getting_ there.”

Anders crossed his arms over his chest with unconcealed hostility. Giving her a slightly rude gesture to continue. All but grinding his teeth together with impatience.

“So, this woman who is _supposed_ to be dead is hanging around with a known companion of the Hero of Ferelden, has her own mabari, and -- in case it slipped your notice -- wearing warden issue robes!”

Anders hated to give it to her, but she might be onto something. Something like a mix of morbid dread and dawning realization was creeping up on him.

“They were talking about the Eluvian being a sort of portal between worlds…..do you think Hawke-?”

“What **I** _think_ , Blondie, is that we just saw the Hero of Ferelden.”

“But that’s impossible, I knew the Warden. He’s not a mage, he’s not even an elf. **He** is a _he_ for Maker’s sake!”

“Right, just like that elf we just saw is long dead?”

“So, what you’re saying….it’s…”

“I’m not _saying_ anything. Just suggesting that we might not want to make any assumptions….keep an open mind, as it were…. **and** that we keep a damn close eye on that mirror from now on. And record everything we see, even things that don’t seem important. We have to assume the mirror is showing us these things for a reason. Think of it like a puzzle.”

Varric took the quill that rested on the desk Anders had been using for his research and quickly jotted down what they had seen and their speculations on it. Handing it off to Anders for him to contribute his own interpretation. Then, in short order, to Isabela.

“Every piece counts….”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://dragonaging.tumblr.com/post/92863476263/misspiggy385-dragonage-freddie-prinze-jr
> 
> This picture of Freddie Prinze Jr. at SDCC made me so happy. Just thought I should share it with those of you who aren't obsessively following the Inquisition update tumblr.
> 
> AKA, those of you with actual lives. ;p
> 
> <3

_Maker…._

And to think, just hours ago, Hawke had decided that _not_ killing Velanna was one of her worse decisions.

Recruiting her? 

What had she even been thinking.

It couldn’t be more clear that the elf was only out for herself, well herself and her sister, anyways. The dalish mage was _the_ single most whiny, overly-critical, frigid **bitch** Dylan had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Though the rumor was Meredith might be steep competition.

To top it all off, Velanna woman kept hinting (insisting, really) that she knew a faster way back to the keep. Seizing every opportunity to criticize the _‘ignorant shems’_ for being unable to navigate the landscape properly, too out of touch with nature and reliant on previously forged paths. 

Blah blah blah blah blah. _Nag nag nag nag nag._

Andraste’s tits, the woman was one unfortunate insult away from getting hexed.

Honestly, at this point Dylan wasn’t even sure what was stopping her from just punching the elf in the face and leaving her to find her own way back. Though, knowing her luck they would arrive to find the elf had beaten them to the keep...and then she’d never live it down.

At least Anders seemed to be enjoying himself. Nathaniel too, surprisingly. 

She was hesitant to call it actual _flirting_ on the archer’s end, but he was definitely being far more friendly that he had been to _her_ so far. So it was still notable….and entirely disheartening.

A groan nearly made it past her lips, but she had already resolved herself to complaining about it (out loud at least) as little as possible.

Behind her, she heard a noise that sounded almost exactly like the one she had just been tempted to make. “ You know that chip on your shoulder? I think it has finally replaced your head.”

Hawke had to bite back a giggle, her mood immediately bright as Anders increased his pace until he fell into pace comfortably by her side. Giving her a pointed look that said he had come to the same conclusion about the elf as she had, they both left Velanna to scowl at Nathaniel as he tried in vain to flatter her with a chorus of _‘My Lady’_ s and _‘Yes, humans are horrible’_ s. It was almost nauseating the sudden change in his demeanor. 

The look on Anders face said he agreed.

“Glad to have you back.” She greeted him with a only slightly forced smile. “It’s good to know you’re only willing to suffer so much in pursuit of elven _pie._ I was beginning to worry I’d misplaced my……( ~~affection, interest, attraction, **heart**?~~ ) _friendship._ ” 

Makers breath. Really? _“Friendship?”_ She needed to grow a pair of balls, and fast, before they recruited anything or anyone else he was attracted to and she lost her opening.

To talk to him, she had lowered her voice just enough to make it impossible for those at the back of the group to hear them and he leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his own voice to a stage whispers.

“ _Friends_ , are we?” She’d moved her eyes back to the path, but the signature raised eyebrow was clear in his voice. “Commander, I’m surprised at you. Not very professional to pick favorites among the recruits. Especially, young, innocent mage boys whose gratitude after being saved from the templars might lead him to -- “

“Prostrate himself?” she cut in. He barked out a laugh and swung his arm around her shoulder as they walked. It took active participation on Hawke’s part _not_ to clench all her muscles in response. Touching and being touched by Anders was still a novelty. Back in Kirkwall he had touched her often enough, but only for healing. Always quick and clinical, and she was usually either in pain or unconscious for most of it anyways. Hard to enjoy.

This Anders was warm and tentatively affectionate, he may try to play off all his touching as flirtation, but clearly he was just as in need of physical comfort and closeness as she was. Hawke let herself lean slightly against him and they both adjusted quickly to a comfortable pace, continuing their march back to the keep.

It occurred to her as they traveled in a comfortable (and occasionally interrupted by banter) silence that she had never really thanked him for how he had opened up to her the other night. Those stories of his time in the circle were something he couldn’t possibly know how much she cherished. She’d had so many questions and so much curiosity about his past for so long. For years in Kirkwall she had struggled to earn his trust, to get him to open up to her. To share his life. 

Almost _six years_ and nothing to show for it. Less than _five days_ here and they were practically best friends. She wondered if that meant as much to him as it did to her.

_‘Unlikely’_ she decided. Still….it was only fair.

So she opened up. Trying her damndest not to lie by anything but omission.

She spoke of growing up in a family of apostates, mentioning only her father and sister’s magic, never her own. Of running from templars, never settling down, always looking over her shoulder. He seemed fascinated by mages living outside the circle, of having an actual family. A wife, children. 

It took them most of the afternoon just to get through her early childhood. It wasn’t the most exciting tale to tell, but the look on his face kept her interested in weaving her tale. Every tiny detail seemed to absolutely fascinate him, and his eyes lit up with mirth as she told him about the time she had practically thrown herself at an old, balding Templar to prevent him noticing the static Bethany had been uncontrollably producing as she gathered laundry -- and then they both cracked up as she described watching her sister flail in the blankets that wouldn’t stop crackling and clinging to her, all the while trying desperately to smooth down her hair which was all but completely defying gravity as it filled with electric charge.

That night when they stopped for camp they wordlessly broke up to set their tents and bathe. Returning almost simultaneously they settled by the fire shoulder to shoulder, picking up right where they left off.

Hawke wished he would put his arm around her again but was afraid to initiate anything, she had no way to know what might make him scamper off again -- what might make him feel too vulnerable -- and she was enjoying the moment too much to ruin it over a bit of missed contact.

The rest of their group gradually retreated to their tents and still Anders and Hawke sat awake, voices unnecessarily hushed and faces pressed necessarily close together. Dylan told him the story of how she found Riot, her mabari. How incredible it was when he imprinted on her, how much she missed him….and, as the tale wound to a close, she noticed his eyes had gone far away. The warm look they’d been sharing all evening suddenly clouded but…..some emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“So…” he began, still not looking at her, still haunted by some unreadable emotion. “This dog, these friends….your family. They’re all back in Kirkwall now.” She merely nodded, not quite sure what it was he was even getting at. It was clear something had disturbed him though, and she had no desire to make it worse with careless words. “Will you asked to be stationed there, then? So you can be closer to them.” 

_No. They aren’t even there yet….and they would probably be confused if I showed up now._ It occurred to her again that there was probably a younger Dylan out there somewhere, completely oblivious to the presence of her doppelganger, and completely ignorant to the tragedies that had yet to come. Maybe she could change that future, but maybe she shouldn’t. 

It was stupid, of course she should have her Father and sister. Stop Carver from making the biggest mistake of both their lives… Save the farm. Stay in Lothering. Never step one foot in Kirkwall.

_‘Never meet Anders.’_ What would he think if he knew how selfish she really was? What she was willing to let others suffer just to be by his side. What _she_ was willing to suffer -- Just to know him.

_‘Useless, I can’t tell him any of that... He’d think I was lyrium addled.’_

“There’s no warden outpost in Kirkwall.” was what Hawke went with in the end. Still not a lie, but she had been hedging a fine line of half-truths all day. It was starting to wear on her conscience; and when paired with a lack of quality sleep…..

“Oh,” whatever he was been looking for her to say, clearly she’d missed the mark somewhat, he didn’t seem overly put out though. So it was _something_. “You’ll be staying here then, for the foreseeable future?”

His voice was overly casual. Hawke wished she weren’t so well acquainted with that tone. It was so easy to love him like this, to forget that he wasn’t really the one she wanted. To forget that they were separate people.

She sighed and looked away, off into the flames. More questions she couldn’t answer. Their nice, peaceful evening was deteriorating around them quickly. Dylan wasn’t an idiot. She knew what he meant. What he really wanted to know, she could practically hear the words he hadn’t said on his lips. 

_‘Will you stay with me?’_

He was afraid to get attached, afraid he’d lose her like he’d always lost everything and everyone else he cared about in the end. And she really wished she could just say yes. That she could lean in and kiss him and never leave his side.

But if she was ever offered the chance to go home, to see the other Anders again…...what would she do? Already it would be a hard choice to make, letting go of this happiness she’d already found with his younger self. Her thirst for him was quenched (or at least sated) for the first time. Could she go back to craving him, endlessly, with no reprieve?

He was looking at her expectantly, and she didn’t have an answer. Any answer. Let alone the one he wanted. 

Hawke couldn’t promise him anything, and it made her heart ache. It was clear what she had to do, and there was no use sugar coating it. 

_‘Do it fast, like pulling off an old bandage.’_

Dylan took a deep breath, grit her teeth, and slid away from his warmth, putting more than a foot between them before she spoke. Hating how hard and dry her voice sounded.

“The man I love is still in Kirkwall. If I get the chance to return to him I…..shouldn’t turn it down.”

_' Shouldn't.....that's really the right word, isn't it? Not couldn't, not wouldn't.... **shouldn't.** '_

She heard a sharp intake of breath to her right. It was just as she thought. He’d forgotten their conversation that first night at camp. Forgotten that her heart wasn’t free for him to claim. 

Hawke couldn’t meet his eyes, she doubted he was looking at her anyway.

“I…” Strained silence. “Of course.” she heard him push up from the blanket they’d shared, he sounded shaky. “Goodnight Hawke.” She couldn’t blame him. She knew what rejection felt like, it sucked. 

And though it was impossible to be comforted by the though, she repeated the thought over and over to herself as the minutes of first watch ticked by.

_‘At least I didn’t give him time to fall in love with me.’_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see I've updated tags, and soon I'll probably have to update the rating as well. 
> 
> (fingers crossed that I don't scare anyone off with the lesbian stuff.)
> 
> This chapter turned out to be much longer than I originally wanted. I kept trying to edit it down, but every-time I cut out a paragraph I just ended up adding one somewhere else.
> 
> I guess this fucker is just determined to be over-sized. ;p
> 
> Looks like my standardized chapter length is going the same way my posting schedule did.
> 
> Sorry :/

The next day Anders was quiet .….even distant.

And from the curious looks shot her way it was clear that the others _had_ noticed (not _just_ noticed, either, but perhaps even suspected the cause).

Hawke had expected him to be cold to her, or perhaps to retreat back to the shallow flirting and sexual suggestion of their first two days. Maybe to pretend nothing had ever happened…..

Unfortunately Dylan’s assumptions were lacking in imagination.

Reality was so much worse.

It was if he had become the Anders she knew in Kirkwall overnight. He looked older, more tired. His face was a constant storm of deep thought, focus, and despair. He spoke to no one unless spoken to, and even then only direct answers. No off-colour jokes, no flirtation, no wit and quick smile.

Dammit, she hadn’t wanted this. Andraste’s tits she didn’t even know what it was she **had** wanted -- what was she even doing? what _should_ she do? -- that was the heart of the problem wasn’t it...and he had been hurt by her inability to be honest, to be direct. 

_‘To make up my own damn mind.’_

They returned to the keep late at night, after three days of travel, two of which they spent in almost complete silence. 

Hawke hadn’t realized it, but aside from Oghren's occasional burp or rude comment, and Nathaniels rough (yet sparse) attempts to woo Velanna, they were really a quiet bunch. They had avoided prevailing silence so far only because she and Anders had kept up such a persistent stream of banter, jokes and sexual stories. With the newfound distance between them it was weirdly lonely on the road….the last two days of travel passed with near unbearable slowness.

As soon as they reached Vigil’s Keep Anders seemed to evaporate into thin air. 

Perhaps he had earned some time alone. The last thing she wanted was for him to hate it here, in the Wardens. Dylan would do everything in her power to keep it from feeling like a prison to him, just another circle - just another tower. 

She wanted to let him rest, give him time to sort thing out, _really._ She **did.**

But she couldn’t.

The lost Warden, _'Kristoff'_ was still missing. More likely dead with every passing moment. Their departure would be delayed a day only because of the supplies they would need. Amaranthine was barely a day’s walk, but where they would go from there was a mystery to all but Kristoff and the darkspawn he hunted. They needed to be prepared for a long journey, and such a supply would take at least a day to gather and pack. They would have a wagon with them this time at least, so they could take turns resting their feet and perhaps cover more ground in a day.

Too bad Velanna couldn’t heal. As much as Hawke was loathe to tolerate her presence willingly, it _would_ still be a better option than forcing Anders to come along.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite her exhaustion Hawke managed only a few hours of sleep, too much on her mind. Too many nightmares lying in wait.

It was odd, she thought as she slipped on a light blouse and some comfortable leggings, padding silently down the stairs of the nearly deserted keep. Dylan had always heard from Anders that the nightmares about Darkspawn were one of the worst parts to being a Warden, yet she hadn’t experienced a single one yet. Some part of her was almost put out by that, Hawke thought they might even be preferable to the nighttime hauntings she was having instead. Visions of what she’d lost (left behind?) in Kirkwall.

The cool morning air was a small comfort -- but a comfort still -- and Hawke paced the courtyard slowly, head tipped back and breathing deep.

She even slid off her boots and wriggle her toes in the grass, delighting in the simplicity of the feeling. The small bits of peace.

Perhaps if she -- 

A slight rustling of grass and a small _mew_ broke her from her maudlin thoughts, and Hawke looked down to find a small tabby-cat staring up at her (with that curious head tilt that animals often call up when interested in something they didn’t yet understand). 

“Well, hello there.” She cooed, voice immediately an octave higher and far more syrupy than normal. “Who might you be? Ser Pounce-a-lot perhaps?” The cat just looked on with wide, sweet eyes. Mewling softly.

“I know just what to do with you.” For a wild cat it was certainly friendly. It put up no fight as she scooped it up into her arms. Pressing against her skin for leverage he planted paws on her shoulder and rubbed his furry little face against her cheeks.

_‘Okay, I’m not even a cat person and I know that was stupidly cute.’_

“C'mon, boy. We’ve got a friendship to salvage….”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting the cat up to her room: easy enough. 

Getting it to sit _still_ as she bathed, groomed and generally attempted to make it more presentable (as cute as it was, it was still a wild animal. It’s fur was matted and greasy -- and the smell could be improved on): nigh impossible.

In the end Hawke wasted the better part of a morning dressing up her gift to Anders. Maybe if she gave him Ser Pounce he would forgive her.

_‘...Or maybe he’ll just take the cat and continue pretending nothing ever happened between you two.’_

_‘Oh, shut up, **me** ….don’t be so damned pessimistic all the time.’_

Unfortunately, once she _was_ ready to present Anders with her fluffy surprise -- Hawke flinched at her own mental phrasing -- he was suddenly impossible to reach.

Right before noon she knocked on his door. Called out softly, and no response. Well, it had been a long week. Dylan gave him the benefit of a doubt and came back later. Two hours later found her holding a squirming kitten behind her back as Anders flung the door open and glared at her, not granting her so much as an _‘hello’._

Yet, despite his cool greeting, Dylan would have continued with her plan unhindered if Nathaniel hadn’t chosen that exact moment to come ask Anders to join him for lunch. 

Unwilling to smother the poor kitten through an entire meal just to sustain the surprise of the present, Hawke excused herself with some imagined duty or chore to be done around the keep and scampered off to sulk in her room for the next half-hour until the rest returned from lunch.

Perhaps it would have been wisest to join them herself -- but despite the Warden appetite, Dylan was strangely not hungry. 

_‘Well, strangely unwilling to eat, at least.’ _

She had the nervous sort of nausea one gets sometimes: the night before a test, waiting for news of an injured family member, being unsure if the man you’re madly in love with will ever talk to you again…. 

‘You know, that sort of thing...’

Of course, Dylan just couldn’t seem to catch a break today. 

When she returned again to Anders’ room, after waiting for long enough to be sure that the midday meal would be well over, she found it wide open, completely trashed, and completely empty.

_Maker_ , they must have loved him at the circle if this was how he kept his sleeping area. If Hawke didn’t know better, she would have thought the room had been sacked. (All the more impressive since he’d only had a night in which to accomplish it.)

Still, because it was _Anders_ , Dylan immediately found it entirely adorable and endearing…..She would never have him any other way.

Suddenly, it seemed incredibly unimportant whether or not she was here to see his reaction to meeting Ser Pounce, or even if she ever received credit for the gift. It was incredibly selfish, wasn’t it, to deny him his happiness for any amount of time _just_ because she wanted him to be _grateful_ for it. 

_Makers sake,_ Hawke should be doing this because it would make him _happy_ , not because she was hoping it would get her back in his good books. 

Well, she didn’t really deserve to be there, did she? Since arriving in this time she had done nothing but flirt and _(mis)_ lead him on. 

_‘And don’t forget all the flat out lies you’ve told.’_

Then, when he actually took the bait she had been lying down gratuitously, she practically scolded him for it.

_‘Oh, Void take me, I’d certainly have earned it.’_

Giving Pounce a final pet, Hawke made a quaint little bed for the animal amongst Anders’ already rumpled sheets. She fixed the ribbon around the cat’s neck one final time and reached to remove the small satchels of animal feed she’d gathered from her pockets. 

**“What are you doing in my room?!”**

_ ‘Fuck!’ _

“Um, I was just-” _nope,_ “ I mean, there was- I was..”

_‘Shit -- Full sentences, speak them idiot, now please!’_

Unable to think of any sort of excuse, or even put words to the actual reason for her presence in his room she merely stepped to the side and gestured dumbly to the animal now rolling around on his bed, batting at a balled up sock as if it were a small (dead) rodent.

Two things happened rapid fire at that moment. 

One: Hawke realized that the reason Anders hadn’t been in his room was because he had been using the bathing chamber down the hall. Apparently, he also hadn’t thought to be modest enough to bring a spare change of clothes with him. Given the only thing he wore currently (barring his normal leather hair band) was a threadbare towel around his waist. 

Two: Anders realized she’d brought him a cat.

His eyes went wide and his face was suddenly completely open towards her again. He flashed her the brightest smile she’d ever seen on his face and the gratitude that filled his eyes made her blush furiously.

“You got me a cat.” He sounded amazed, but it wasn’t a question. And he swept the confused little bundle up into his arms without a second thought.

“Oh, he’s lovely.” The mage all but cooed at the animal, using that voice people often use with babies. He told the kitten how beautiful and clever and what a noble beast it was. He seemed to be completely absorbed, to have even forgotten Dylan’s presence until she failed to stifle a giggle at his treatment of the little beast.

“Thank you. _Really._ I don’t even know how you _knew_ …. but this -- he’s _perfect._ Thank you so much. No one’s ever given me a gift before, not really. Not like this.” more bright smiles that she totally didn’t deserve. 

Hawke heard herself mumble something about how it was no big deal, that it was about time someone treated him like a human being, and not ~~just~~ a _mage_. She just shrugged, trying desperately to play off how much his appreciation really meant to her.

\--- _And_ there it was again, that look he’d given her by the campfire two nights ago. Could it really be so easy to earn back his affections? 

“Now, what am I going to name you?”

Apparently it could, his attention was entirely back on the kitten now. Hawke could just slink out of the room now and when they set off again tomorrow things would be entirely back to normal..

“I’m sorry.”

Unless, of course: Dylan completely buggered it up by talking….she really _shouldn’t_ be allowed to. 

“ _Sorry?_ What on Thedas do you have to be _sorry_ for? This is  wonderful. I’ve always wanted a cat, I mean, it’ll probably be dangerous carrying him around with us on the road. But --”

“ I lied.”

_‘Cricket. Cricket.’_ Anders plopped the kitten back down onto the bed and turned to face her fully. Arms crossed defensively across his chest as he waited for her to explain herself.

“The other night, I lied….I shouldn’t --” She growled, actually growled. Why did emotions have to be so complicated and _hard._ “I wasn’t entirely honest. I made it sound like I had someone waiting for me and...well, the thing is...I don’t. It was never… urg.”

_‘Deep breaths. Compose thoughts.’_

“It was always one sided.”

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and turned to leave. Of course, she’d fixed their friendship just in time to sabotage it all over again. Fantastic. 10/10. Three cheers for Dylan Hawke. 

“Anyways, I just felt like I should apologize. I just panicked. I’ve never been very good at..” she waved her hands around like a mad woman, as if she could conjure up the words she was looking for out of thin air. Maker’s hairy arse, she should just stop talking and beat a hasty retreat right now. Before this was beyond salvageable.

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter. I was a complete arse. I hope we can still be --” 

A firm, warm hand closed around her arm and turned her forcefully back to face him. 

“---friends…” it came out a whisper, a startled, breathy noise that dripped of the stunned sort of _want_ that flooded into her every limb.

He was so close, had boxed her in so surely. As if she weren’t a seasoned warrior, as if she didn’t know how to avoid being cornered. 

He’d gotten her backed against the door. Firm, cool wood at her back; smooth bath-heated flesh against her front. The warmth of him seeping through the thin material of her blouse. His bare legs pressed tangled against her own as ---

Wait... _bare legs?_ Oh...Maker and all his prophets save her. He was naked.

Anders naked. Naked Anders. Against her, _Naked_ against her. 

Over his shoulder she could see the faded Warden blue towel in a heap on the floor. Hawke couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of it, which was absurd considering there was so much of Anders skin. Right there. Just ripe for the oogling.

**Naked.**

_Naked. Naked. Naked._ \--- And there it went, the last spark of intelligence in her mind, blinked straight out. Andraste’s frilly knickers, how many times had she dreamed of this? And now it was happening. Really happening. 

She should probably be doing something, reacting in some way other than gaping like a lunatic. 

Push him away. Kiss him senseless. Shoo away the cat, push him down on the bed and ride him until you both go blind with pleasure --

_Anything_ but just standing there like a statue and _staring_ at a fucking towel on the floor.

“Just friends…?”

He was so close, she could feel his breath against her lips. Feel the tightness of his muscles, the slight trembling of his arms where they rested against her shoulders, trapping her in.

“I-” the word came out as a squeak and immediately Dylan swallowed, collecting herself. She searched frantically for the words that would ---- what? Let him down gently?

Curse it all to the void, she didn’t _want_ to let him down. She _wanted_ to ravish him. Lock them both in the room and just fuck and fuck until Dylan forgot there had ever even been another Anders.

Until she forgot all the pain of unrequited love and all their history together. Forgot all the complicated reasons she couldn’t just surrender to this, couldn’t just give in and let herself have _this_ Anders who seemed so willing to be had.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she watched his eyes track it. Felt him draw infinitesimally closer. Felt the hard heat of his cock pressing lightly against her hip, the strong pulse of blood filling him. _Maker_ , she could just imagine how that would feel inside her. How he would -- 

Without warning, the door swung open behind her and Hawke tumbled backwards, landing unceremoniously on her arse. Looking straight up at a very flustered and undeniably confused Senschel.

“M-my apologies Commander, but you’re needed downstairs immediately. Some of our soldiers think there may still be some darkspawn stuck under the keep. We need to deal with this --”

Hawke threw her arm over her face and just groaned. Not even attempting to move from her position on the floor. 

“Um, Commander? Are you alright?”

_**‘No, you idiot. I’m pathetic, horny, and stuck in the past. Do I look alright to you?’** _

“I’ll be fine Varel, just give me a mo’” She said instead. Slowly rising to a sitting position and taking the armored hand offered as leverage to get back on her feet. 

Anders door was closed again. Of course it was. 

At least he probably wasn’t angry or upset at her again. She could hear the sound of movement and cloth through the thin walls (and wouldn’t that be a ~~bummer~~ blast if they ever _did_ end up naked together).. so he was probably just getting dressed. Pity she hadn’t even gotten a good look at him naked, he’d been too close up to perv on properly. 

Varel cleared his throat awkwardly.

Dylan just shook her head, thinking perhaps someone up there must be having one hell of a good laugh at her expense.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12 Chapters in and we FINALLY meet the 3rd (4th if you count both Anders seperately) main character in this story.
> 
> Wow, I had judged this as like a 60000 word thing, but turns out its looking to be much longer.
> 
> Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into.

Luckily Hawke was saved from having too much time to dwell on _‘The Anders Situation’_ given that the rest of her afternoon (her whole day, really) was spent under the damned ground; Clearing out the deep-road-esque tunnels that ran beneath the keep. 

By the time she emerged from the tunnels with Nathaniel, Velanna, and the small contingent of guards she’d taken along, it was almost first bell. 

More than anything, at the moment, Hawke just desired a hot bath to remove the smell and the grime. Unfortunately, she would have to deal with a cold basin and a wash cloth. Most of the keep’s staff had already turned in, and while Dylan certainly had the power and authority to awaken some servant or other to prepare a bath for her, she wasn’t going to disturb anyone elses sleep for her own selfish reasons. 

Of course, she also wasn’t going to draw the damn thing herself. _No. fucking. way._

It was probably for the best, anyhow. As exhausted as she was, after a long day and too little sleep, she would probably have drifted off still in the water and drowned. 

So exhausted was she that the next morning, when Hawke awoke (to the soft knocking of a servant girl sent to alert her to the readiness of their caravan), at first she had no memory of the night before. Seemingly missing the section of time in between exiting the caverns and making it to the comfort of her new bed.

Dylan dressed quickly. As much as she would just _love_ to have a leisurely breakfast and maybe a proper bath, Kristoff would probably similarly like to not be _dead_ when they found him. So it was probably best if they got on their way as soon as possible.

As Hawke descended to the armory to fetch the Warden Plate they had set aside for her, she caught a soldier on his way up the stairs and asked him to kindly wake up all but Velanna and get them ready for travel.

However, by the time she packed her satchel and fastened herself into the (exquisite and surprisingly comfortable) set of armor, Hawke could hear a strange commotion coming from the ground floor of the keep.

Normally she would have grabbed a weapon and scrambled to what was presumably some kind of ambush. In this specific case though, Dylan could hear cheering and definite shouts of joy from below. 

So she took the stairs in no hurry. 

The moment her feet hit the garish carpets in the main hall, Hawke was thrown backwards by the full weight of a _very_ friendly Mabari war hound. Heavy emphasis on the _war_ (ironically). 

Just the sight of him invoked a pang of longing for Riot, even though there was very little similarity between the two dogs. This beast would have _towered_ over her own pet. She could swear _this_ big black monster even had _muscles._

Dylan had never seen a dog she would have described as ‘buff’ before.

“Hey boy!” She grinned as the dog gave her a flurry of familiar, sloppy kisses. Even though it wasn’t Riot, it _was_ nice to see a mabari again. The beast seemed to appreciate her warm greeting just as much, all but sitting in her lap as she gave the dog a tight hug, arms wrapped around the huge girth of it’s shoulders.

A high pitched, nervous, laugh split through the noise in the room. And a girl, small even for an elf, ran over to pull the animal away from Dylan.

“I’m so sorry, really, he’s normally much better behaved.” She gave the animal a quick smack on the head, wagging her finger at him like one would a small child. “It must be all this excitement - goes to his head, you see.” In response her furry companion barked happily and ran off back into the crowd of people gathered in the hall. Presumably to make even more friends and give more unsuspecting wardens a tongue bath.

“It’s no trouble.” Hawke took the hand offered gratefully and pulled herself back onto her feet. “Once upon a time I had my own mabari, so I didn’t mind at all. It was kind of refreshing, actually.”

The cute elven girl giggled again, it was really a sweet sound, one of those laughs that always seemed to infect others. “Refreshing? That’s a word I haven’t heard used to describe being drenched in mabari slobber before.”

Hawke just grinned widely back at her. Enjoying the smaller woman’s obvious, well….enjoyment.

“My name is Hawke, I’m the new Warden Commander...here at least.” She held out her hand in greeting but received only a confused look in return.

“ _You’re_ the commander? But they said…..Oh, I’m _so_ sorry. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to step on anyones toes. It’s just, I was under the impression that that’s why I was here. You know. To command. The wardens I mean.”

“Huh?” Hawke responded articulately.

The elf blushed in response and looked at the floor as if suddenly overtaken by shyness.

“You’ve probably heard of me. My name’s Keylyn Surana. Most people just call me Suri though.” The girl- _Suri_ apparently- was still looking at her expectantly. But none of it was ringing a bell for Hawke.

“Sorry, I can be desperately ignorant sometimes...why--”

“I’m the…” she sighed and rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly “The _‘Hero of Ferelden’_ (she spoke the title in the same droll tone that the King had). You know: ….killed the archdemon, ended the fifth blight, put a royal bastard on the throne.”

Well, **that** was certainly enough to make Hawke’s head spin. She’d never met the Hero of Ferelden before. But everyone knew about him. 

_**‘Him.’** _

Still, there was a sinking feeling in Dylan’s gut, because every instinct honed from years in Kirkwall and playing Wicked Grace with Isabela told her that this girl _wasn’t_ lying.

And well, that just made her head spin.

It wasn’t like she didn’t already have her suspicions about...where and when she was. But, to be confronted with the reality of it like _this_.

Not just the past then. This wasn’t a matter of having time turned back like the pages of a book. This was a matter of an alternate history, an alternate world. She didn’t even belong here. No Hawke did.

If that was the case. What if she _did_ try to seek out her family. Did they even exist in this reality? Maybe here Beth wasn’t a mage. Maybe here her mother had never actually mustered the courage to run away with her apostate lover. Maybe….

Maybe _she_ didn’t even exist. Hell, if the Hero of Ferelden was a completely different person then why not her. Dylan tried to picture herself, maybe with curly hair, maybe with bright blue eyes like her father, like Carver. Tried to picture herself as a man. It was surreal, but there was no reason to believe it wasn’t actually the case.

“Um, are you alright?” she felt the soft sensation of healing magic wash over her, a simple diagnostic spell. Wow, she must be spacing out _hard_ if Suri was worried enough about her to check her for injuries...wait - 

“You’re a mage?” 

Another puzzled look from the elf.

“Of course I’m a mage. Have you _really_ not heard of me? I mean, it’s kind of refreshing, but….still **odd**.”

Hawke just shrugged, unsure how to explain her ignorance in this situation. 

“So, what? Now that you’re here I just step aside? Hand the reins over to you, as it were?”

The other mage looked taken aback by that.

“Creators, no!” she waved her hands around frantically, a look of sheer panic passing over her features. “I’ve done enough leading for an entire lifetime. I only even _came_ because they made it sound so urgent...but if they already have _you_ I don’t see why I would have to take over. We're an order of equals after all, in theory at least….I’d be happy to follow you, you seem like a nice enough woman, and It’s been ages since I’ve met an arcane warrior, I’d love to talk shop with you if you don’t mind. I can teach you some new magic, when we were on the run Morrigan -- She’s the daughter of Flemeth, the _real **Flemeth**_ \-- taught me some neat spells -- Oh! and _shapeshifting_ , I can teach you how to shapeshift.”

Hawke could feel her eyes getting wider and wider. It was the same sort of endearing rambling that Merrill was wont to take part in. Except this elf seemed much more ~~forceful~~ _energetic_ about it. 

“Oh, curse it all. I’ve gone off on a tangent again haven’t I? Really, without Morrigan around to shut me up I really am insufferable. Did you know --”

All it took was a raised eyebrow and a pointed look and Suri clamped a hand over her mouth and blushed. Dylan couldn’t help but giggle. This girl really did remind her of a less naive Merrill.

The short dark hair, the tattoos (though hers were clearly not Vallaslin, and not limited to her face), the adorably big blue eyes. 

It occurred to Hawke that she was probably staring, examining -- er -- checking-out the mage as she was. 

_‘Well, if it doesn’t work out with Anders I can always drown my sorrows in her.’ _Dylan watched the way the smaller girl eyed her up in return, blushing furiously all the way. _‘She's certainly interested, at least.’_

“So..” Suri broke the awkward and increasingly sexual tension between them, “Shall we go tell the Seneschal that you _shant_ be relieving your title after all.”

Hawke nodded, giving the girl a reassuring smile. It was unexpected, that such a famous and assumingly powerful mage would be so withdrawn and shy. More than anything it made Dylan want to just hug the girl.

“By the way, if you haven’t been on the road for too long, I was planning to lead a search party for a missing Warden. Want to come?”

A happy bark was the only response, the big black mabari bounding back into view and circling her legs as if she’d just offered him a treat. 

“Well I think that’s your answer,” she pulled a mabari crunch out of some hidden pocket in her robes and gave him a firm pat. “This is Jowan.” For some reason Suri flushed as she introduced him. “I don’t think you had a chance to be introduced properly, earlier.”

“Lovely to meet you, Jo.” Another energetic _woof_ and the hound offered her it’s right paw in greeting. 

“I need to go make sure the others are ready to go, we leave at 9th bell. Can you be prepared by then?”

Suri nodded and patted her hip, calling the mabari to her side. “I’ll go talk to Varel about my position here, you go rally the troops.”

“Whatever you say _Commander_.” Hawke teased. Deciding she would very much like this 'Keylyn Surana' when the only answer she received was a loudly blown raspberry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of bad decisions and adults behaving like children in this chapter. 
> 
> Sorry if that annoys anyone. 
> 
> It kind of annoyed me while I was actually writing it, but upon revision I liked it well enough.

The trip to Amaranthine took less time than Hawke had anticipated, and they reached the city just as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Of course, it would probably take twice as long on the way back. Almost their entire trek to the city had been downhill, somehow Dylan knew that didn’t mean good things for the return route. 

Her legs practically ached just thinking about it.

Because of some truly reprehensible decision making on her part (and an attempt to compromise with Varel) Nathaniel spent most of their trip curled up with their supply packs, in the back of the wagon, moaning.

Varel had staunchly protested Nathaniel being allowed to leave the keep, on yet another mission, before undertaking the Joining. And because Dylan had this thing about avoiding conflict and trying to make everyone fucking happy she ended up forcing the poor man to rush through the ceremony -- at which point they had simply packed him up like so much cargo and let him recover on the road.

It was unpleasant, surely, but Hawke really needed an Archer on this trip. Well, it was _always_ handy to have an archer, of course; But if she were being honest with herself, Dylan could admit that it was just... after years of travelling almost constantly with Varric, she wasn’t so sure how to fight without one. 

Jokingly, Hawke had even considered throwing a crossbow his way and insisting he switch specialties. 

Oghren had taken up the task of ‘watching over’ Nathaniel. Which sounded nice on paper, but all it really meant was that he spent the journey sat in the driver’s seat of the caravan, drinking constantly, and every hour or so giving Nathaniel a good poke in the side to make sure he wasn’t dead (or awake and suffering).

Then there was Suri, for the life of herself Dylan couldn’t figure out _why_ she wasn’t jealous of the mage. It certainly seemed like she should be, if one tried to look at their situation objectively.

Suri was incredibly attractive (though too cute to be considered traditionally beautiful), incredibly powerful as a mage, and (probably most importantly) apparently a, ~~incredibly~~ _very **very**_ good friend of Anders’ from the circle.

Dylan could have swore he actually started to _glow_ a little when she and the elf emerged from the keep this morning, ready to depart on their journey. Suri, for her part, had let out an incredibly undignified squeal and _launched_ herself at the healer.

The comparison was strange, but it almost matched the joy Hawke had seen when she’d gifted him Pounce -- admittedly magnified quite a bit.

Anders had snatched up the elf eagerly and spun her around like a small child. The two looked almost comical next to each other. The difference in heights looked like something out of a children’s book.

And that’s when it started. The beginning of Dylan’s curious _lack_ of jealousy.

The pair had been inseparable for the entirety of the trip, laughing and reminiscing. Suri and Anders had eyes only for each other. And Hawke had never been so content to just sit back, listen, and absorb in her _life_. Even back in Kirkwall, when Anders would read his manifesto to her, or occasionally open up about his feelings -- deep down Dylan had always been too tense, too _aware_ of herself and of him, not to mention the tension between them, to truly just _relax and listen._

This was nothing like those times. Despite the fact that she was all but a spectator (occasionally interrupting to ask for clarification or more details) she found herself laughing and glowing along with them. There was only a moment of awkwardness when Suri accidentally referenced the fact that Dylan was a mage, Anders’ eyes shot to Hawke’s over the elf’s shoulder and he gave her a quizzical look that only intensified when he received no denial or dismissal from Dylan. 

He shook it off quick enough though, but not before giving her a tight look -- clearly communicating that they would be discussing her deception later. 

_‘Can’t wait.’_

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, the endless stream of upbeat conversation was forced to end when things got a bit somber. Anders had asked about the fate of a circle mage named “Amell” and Hawke’s ears had perked up immediately.

“You two knew my cousin?” 

For a few seconds the only response she received were two surprised looks. Though their follow ups couldn’t have been more different.

Suri’s whole face fell, while Anders’ broke out into a shit-eating grin. 

“Of course! Everyone knows everyone in the circle, after all. Suri and I actually had a threesome with her once, she was quite the little minx. Wonder if it runs in the ---”

“She died.”

He cut off abruptly. Anders looked shocked and ashamed, Suri looking fierce.

“She’s dead? But, she was such a competent mage. I figured if anyone could survive the horrors at the tower she could. What on Thedas happened to her?

“She died trying to defend that _awful_ **Templar** \--”

“Cullen?!”

“Yes.”

“So it was true then? All the rumors. Did those two really--”

“Enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was a quick burst of magic and suddenly a black speckled rabbit sat at their feet. A strange shape-shifting choice, Dylan thought, but what did she know. She’d only ever heard about shapeshifting in stories, maybe some forms were more comforting that others.

Suri bounced off ahead quickly, Jowan following after her, stopping only to shoot the two an almost sympathetic glance.

“She never _was_ very good at handling conflict.” Anders let out an huff and dragged his fingers through his hair. “When I heard that _she_ was the hero everyone was talking about I thought it must be some mistake, but…” He shrugged, throwing his hands up as if he couldn’t even comprehend.

They walked along in awkward silence for a little while before the silence became too thick to continue. 

“So….my cousin?”

It might not have been the smartest move….actually, it probably would have been better to make a joke or change the subject. But, Dylan hadn’t been so honestly curious about something in a long time.

“She was incredible, Solona. Half of the circle was in love with her, but she only had eyes for this dopey templar named Cullen -- well, and some people had theories about the weird relationship she had with Jowan, but-”

“Jowan?” Dylan felt her eyebrows attempting to crawl up fully into her hairline.

“Huh? Yea, it’s an unusual name. He was a strange fellow too, I doubt he would have survived his Harrowing even with Suri always letting him cheat off of her.”

“It’s just….that’s the dogs name. The mabari, Suri named in Jowan. I was curious earlier, she seemed so embarrassed when she told me. It makes sense now.”

Anders gave her a chuckle for that, but his heart obviously wasn’t in it.

“So….”

“So?”

“You’re a mage.” 

_‘Oh good, we’re gonna do this now.’_

She wasn’t going to consciously deflect his question, but she honestly had no idea how to explain why she’d kept her nature a secret without giving anything _delicate_ away. 

Instead, she stalled. Ran her mouth off in a way Hawke knew Varric would be truly proud of. She rambled about finding manuals in a cave (careful not to bring up that it had _actually_ been the deep roads -- she did brag a bit about killing the dragon though), becoming an Arcane Warrior, the training and the techniques.

Luckily for Hawke, Anders clearly found this new kind of magic interesting, because at no point did he try to steer her intellectual ramblings in the correct direction. Then, Dylan got a second break when Suri returned an hour later, looking decidedly rumpled but clearly in a much better mood. She heard their conversation and insisted Hawke start over from the beginning - claiming she wanted to hear the whole story herself.

Amaranthine came into sight while she was still explaining her own modification of the Rock Armor spell to harden her flesh and make her more difficult to injure. Suri looked completely entranced by her ingenuity, but Anders was beginning to look truly annoyed with her stalling tactics.

Things moved very quickly after that. Nathaniel was awake now, and he was starving. Oghren was insisting they find a tavern immediately upon entering the city. They ended up at the Crown and Lion pub. It had surprisingly decent food for such an establishment, and Nathaniel stuffed himself full of an entire loaf of bread and two hearty bowls of stew. Dylan was almost jealous, so far she seemed to be the only Warden in their group both unplagued by (darkspawn) nightmares and with a normal human appetite. 

_‘Just hope I didn’t get jipped on the stamina front too.’_

Everyone ate as if starving, and Suri went off to investigate Kristof's room while Dylan bartered with the Innkeeper for lodging. They clearly didn’t have enough individual rooms and only 4 beds (two twin, two full) and that was including the fact that they were commandeering Kristof’s old quarters. 

Of course, it might have gone perfectly smoothly.   
But...  
Hawke was an idiot.

She just _had_ to ask where everyone _wanted_ to sleep, instead of just assigning everyone a bed partner and having done with it.

Nathaniel and Oghren quickly took the two twins -- leaving only the three people who were definitely sexually attracted to each other to decide who was sharing a bed with whom.

_‘Fucking brilliant leadership skills on your part, Dylan.’_

Though it didn’t exactly turn out as she had anticipated. 

“She should stay with me, I’m a _girl_. You can’t stay with her, you’d take advantage. I know what you're like Anders, I’ve known you since you were fifteen! Plus, I just got here. You’ve already had her for a week!”

“And what about your mutt - er- hound?” Anders corrected himself quickly when Jo growled at him. “These rooms are tiny, there’s less free space than in the tower for Maker’s sake. You and your _beast_ will take up enough space by yourself. **I’ll** share with Hawke.”

They were fighting? Over her? Clearly, that was the case, but her brain kept stuttering when it tried to wrap itself around that fact. 

She really should interrupt, you know, do some actual _Commanding._ But she managed to hesitate just long enough for the innkeeper to speak up.

“If yer lookin’ fer a place to keep yer m‘bari thers l’ways room in the shed.”

Suri had a victorious and smug look on her face, and Anders looked like he might set something on fire if she didn’t intervene soon. 

Hawke had all but decided to decree that _they_ be the ones that roomed together just to put this silliness to rest -- but somehow she didn’t think that would go over so well. They would probably just refuse that arrangement and the fighting would just intensify.

As flattering as their spat over her was, Dylan much prefered it when the man she loved and the woman she felt inexplicably connected to were happy and getting along.

So, like an adult and a leader --- _hah!_ \--- she pulled a sovereign from her pocket.

“Flip for it. No cheating. I’ll be upstairs.”

She tossed the coin at Anders, who barely caught it with an astonished look on his face, and disappeared into Kristof’s old room.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is when the smut starts and the rating goes up.
> 
> Consider yourself warned. :)
> 
> Who else is ridiculously fucking excited for gamescon? Just me? No?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ADORE this chapter. Egotistical, I know....but I totally do.
> 
> Unfortunately, I expect most of you will disagree. Since I'm guessing the majority are here for Anders more than anything else. I know, he's dreamy.
> 
> But as someone who is mostly into other girls (a 4 on the Kinsey scale, if you know what that means) I gotta say this is more my scene.
> 
> That said, a reason this took so long to post is I ended up writing about 10,000 words of ploty-smut. Also featuring F!Hawke, and Anders. So maybe I don't even know what I'm on about. To be posted at an unspecified point in the future.
> 
> LASTLY -- I haven't done art in too long, and I need to get out my tablet so I don't get out of practice. I think I might do some quick sketches of Dylan and Suri that I can post here if anyone cares.
> 
> That's is all. I hope everyone is enjoying the recent flood of Inquisition info as much as I am.

“So...how upset was he?”

“Ummm….very? I don’t really know. I was just teasing him, I didn’t really... I mean. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a very...um, _alluring_ woman. And it’s been a while for me, so it would probably be nice. There’s just a lot of - um - I kind of thought you two were already a thing. So I was just trying to --”

Dylan gave it a moment before she interrupted, the rambling was nice, it reminded her of home. But curiosity won out.

“What are you talking about?”

“Um, I’m not sure?” She heard Suri sigh and the bed dipped behind her. Hawke could feel the tiny mage shifting around, and after a moment the smaller girl’s arms wrap around her shoulders, her head resting against Dylan’s neck.

“I’m sorry if I ballsed it up for you. I don’t even know what I was thinking. You two are clearly...I shouldn’t get in the middle of it. But…”

Despite herself, Dylan raised a hand to the the arm currently crossed over her chest, holding it to her heart and stroking it with her thumb reassuringly. Normally, giving comfort like this made her feel painfully awkward, but something about Suri put her at ease. They hadn’t even known each other a day and she already felt like an old friend.

“It’s alright, you know. We aren’t together. He’ll get over it….To be honest I’m not even sure if there is anything for him to get over.”

“Trust me, there’s _something_.”

Hawke couldn’t fight a smile at that, though something about it still felt sad, unfortunate.

“Suri…”

“Yea.”

“What about you?”

The arms wrapped around her tightened, and she felt the elf crawl closer, until her entire body pressed tight against Dylan’s back, thin legs bracketing her own.

“I, I don’t know...I….”

Suri sniffled and Hawke felt her shake whatever it was off against her shoulder blades. 

“It’s complicated, long story. I’m sure you know the drill.”

Dylan let her body weight fall to the side, taking Suri with her as she collapsed against the mattress. 

“Tell me.” Hawke tried to make her voice comforting, yet firm at the same time, letting Suri know that her pain was understood, but that Dylan wouldn’t let her out of this without some catharsis being reached.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Hawke snorted, making her doubt clear. 

“Yea, I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No, there really is nothing. I mean. That’s the point isn’t it, there’s _nothing_.”

Well, that was pretty fucking vague, and Hawke was confused. Still she waited patiently for Suri to continue. Letting the elf go at her own pace. 

“First it was Solona. I’d never met anyone like her, she was so, so... _bright_. **Everyone** loved her, but she wasn’t…. I mean, she wasn’t _straight_ , but; She just always seemed more interested in - you know- _men_ and stuff. That’s the only reason I ever even slept with Anders, and I’d hardly call it that. It was the only time I ever had an excuse to be with her, so I -- it’s just -- you take what you can get, right?”

Hawke heard another sniffle and she realized that she was quickly getting out of her depth. Dylan was probably the worst person for this, and yet...she wished that weren’t true. She really _wanted_ to be there for Suri. Wanted to know what was bothering her. For the first time, that felt like it might actually be worth the emotional vulnerability.

“And then there was Morrigan. I never had a chance with her. She didn’t even like girls, I knew that from the start. _Creators_ , I’m such a _fool_.”

A shuddering breath and something damp against her back. Suri was crying, Hawke knew better than to acknowledge it. 

“She called me sister, you know? I think that’s what hurt more than anything else, I don’t know -- it doesn’t really make sense but….I thought I meant something to her. We went through so much together, I mean, I almost _died_ when Flemeth --”

Her voice choked off and Hawke stiffened. _Flemeth?_ She knew that name had sounded familiar. Flemeth had mentioned a girl named Morrigan. A daughter, Hawke had assumed at the time. Suri had been in love with Flemeth’s daughter? 

_‘Maker, the people I run into….’_

“Anyways, turns out it was all a lie anyways. She left, left me to face the archdemon alone.” a sharp sob punctuated her words, “she didn’t even care if I _lived_ and I still….I _still_ went running after her. I just wanted to be with her and she -- I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a complete mental case. It’s just, everytime -- It always ends like that. Dead or gone, everyone. I just meant to tease Anders really, but you’re the first person I’ve ever felt like this about that seemed to… seemed like you might, urg, am I crazy? I just, it feels like I know you, even though that’s impossible --”

Before she had a chance to realize how stupid and rash her actions were, Hawke spun in Suri’s arms so she could look into those big blue eyes. Holding herself up over the elf on the bed, almost straddling her waist. 

“You’re not crazy. I can’t -- I wish I could, but I just can’t -- tell you what I’ve been through, but I understand. Trust me, I understand.”

Suri was looking up at her with wide eyes, face slightly flushed with tears, lips unnaturally pink from the rush of emotions. She was breathing heavily, the rise and fall of her chest exaggerated by her distress. and Hawke thought she was probably going to the void for finding the elf so attractive right now. 

Huge blue eyes, shining with unshed tears, caught her own and it was like she was trapped in a blood magic trance. Hawke couldn’t look away. What was it about these two, it felt just like it had with Anders, frozen with indecision, with lust, with --- with _something_ so painfully close to love that it was just as overwhelming as it was confusing.

Slowly, as if afraid to spook her off, Suri raised herself up on her elbows, bringing her lips so close in the process they were almost brushing Dylan’s own. 

“I can’t…” Hawke began, not even knowing where she meant to go, but still knowing that if they were going to do this she needed to say something. Needed to let Suri know that she was in no position to promise anything, to give any part of herself. Her heart wasn’t hers to even offer anymore.

“I know.” the elf smirked, echoing Hawke’s words from earlier, “Trust me, I understand.”

The kiss was soft at first, almost chaste. Just soft brushes and pecks as Hawke lowered Suri softly back onto the pillow. Dylan wasn’t a big person, more voluptuous than your average girl, perhaps. But her height and build were just average. Still, when her body finally pressed down against Suri’s she had never felt so….big wasn’t the word... _powerful_ , maybe?

Keylyn was so petite, so frail (though Hawke knew that couldn’t really be the case, this was the woman who’d ended the blight after all.) It was the only time, outside of her family, that she’d felt the urge so strongly to protect someone. Even Anders….

Finally, after a few minutes of increasingly passionate and breathless kissing, Hawke pulled up for air. Eyes searching for a sign about how to move forward.

The timing for this couldn’t have been worse. They were both exhausted, sweaty from the days travel, and emotionally damaged. Not exactly a good state of mind for making important, well-informed decisions.

This was the opportunity to back out, to change her mind (and logically, Hawke thought she should probably take it). After all, she was well aware of her emotional deficiencies, of her tendency to self-sabotage and to hide behind flirtation and sex. But…

This didn’t feel like that. This felt, well, _right_ \-- even though Dylan wasn’t a fan of fate or soul-mates or love at first sight. She could already feel the regrets from tomorrow morning, and they weren’t what she would have expected. It wasn’t the fact that she was going to sleep with Suri that she regretted, it wasn’t the rift this would put between her and Anders. No, the things she regretted were all far more out of her control:

Hawke regretted that this mattered so much. That she couldn’t offer a night of comfort and passion to a friend without it hurting another. That she couldn’t tell them all the truth, that she couldn’t explain herself without looking insane. That she couldn’t love one Anders without it affecting her feelings for the other. That she was even here in the first place.

She regretted all those thing, yes. And she wished with all of her heart that she had the power to change them.

But Hawke couldn’t, no, _wouldn’t_ regret this.

A bit of awkwardness began to seep in, and it looked like Suri might actually be about to speak up. 

Then a maid knocked on their door.

Hawke looked down at the elf questioningly and the girls face lit up in embarrassment.

“Um, I asked for hot water to be brought up, thought we might need a bath.” The unspoken apology in her statement made a (disturbingly familiar) warmth bloom in Hawke’s chest.

Clearly flustered, Suri rolled out from under Hawke with a grace that she hadn’t seen from the elf yet. A grace that made her deeply regret that they’d be interrupted.

The barmaid was clearly uncomfortable, she barely shot a glance their way as she made her trips back and forth to bring in hot water. Though Dylan wasn’t sure if she could tell what they’d been up to, or if just the idea of _any_ two women sharing a bed was distasteful to her. It was something family in lower classes did all the time, in this case, however, Hawke was fairly sure it was obvious that they weren’t related.

There was a moment of tense silence once they were alone again, before Suri started to break out into bouts of the very same giggles that had endeared her so quickly to Dylan.

_‘Was that really only this morning? Wow, I might be a humongous slut. Isabela would be so proud.’_

Hawke looked, once again, over to the tiny girl beside her and quickly decided that if wanting to sleep with this wonderful creature made her a slut, she was completely O.K. with that.

“So what do you think?” Hawke asked as she stood and began systematically divesting herself of armor and clothing. Jerking her head towards the large ceramic tub, “Looks big enough for two, especially with your tiny arse.”

Suri scrunched up her nose in response and flushed again, still shaking with rounds of laughter.

Laughter that cut off rather abruptly once Hawke shed her final undershirt, leaving her in smalls and a breast band.

“Wow..” Suri breathed out, before seeming to realize what she’d just said and clamping a hand over her mouth. Suddenly becoming _very_ busy with her own clothing, though her fingers fumbled a bit too much to be convincing. She didn’t look back until Hawke was submerged to her shoulders in the tub.

“Umm..” she tried to recover from her shocked bumbling, “ Armor really doesn’t do much for your figure does it? Heh.” A nervous laugh this time. 

Hawke tried ~~unsuccessfully~~ not to leer as she watched Keylyn disrobed herself. She was far more toned than Dylan herself was. Though it was lean, defined muscle. Not bulk, which probably would have looked ridiculous on her slight frame. Suri’s skin was practically luminescent, even in the dim light of their room, it was so pale it seemed to actually glow.

Dylan felt her own teeth bite softly into her bottom lip as she finally saw how far those tattoos went. 

_‘Maker.’_

Suri must have seen her eyes darting back and forth, trying to take all of the intricate designs in.

“Zev -- one of my travelling companions during the blight -- did them. They don’t bother you?”

_‘Bother me?’_

Dylan almost moaned, she had never considered herself particularly into tattoos, per say. But the way they wound around Suri’s body like vines, the stark contrast of the harsh black against her glowing white skin.

Ok, she _actually_ moaned that time. 

Hawke could actually feel her thoughts getting simpler and more base as time ticked on, and more of Suri’s delicious skin was revealed. Pert breasts and tight dusky nipples. The smallest patch of dark curls. Unusual for an elf, they hardly ever had hair that wasn’t on their head. Maybe her parents --

_‘Wow, thinking about parentage at a time like this, what the bloody hell is wrong with you Dylan Hawke?’_

Then Keylyn was bare, bare and so, so close. Slipping into the water, facing her, straddling her.

There wasn’t even a conscious choice involved, Hawke had to kiss her. Anything else would be verging on madness. Her lips were shockingly soft, how had Dylan not noticed it before? And the contrast between the elf’s thin, pale hips and her own broad tan ones was unaccountably arousing.

Luckily, at least one of them seemed to have some higher brain functions remaining. Hawke felt a soapy loofa pressed into her hand and without hesitation went to work washing the elven goddess (still so cheesy; Hawke could barely stand herself sometimes) on her lap. And if she lingered too long over Keylyn’s breasts and the soft curve of her pert elven arse, then Maker strike her down for being human.

Eventually Dylan couldn’t stand it anymore, and clearly, neither could she.

Hawke was shot a wicked smirk as Suri made a thin soapy trail down the soft contours of her stomach, loofa left to float freely as nimble, pale fingers dipped between her legs.

The sharp gasp that followed brought Dylan’s desire back to the forefront. Watching as Suri panted shamelessly and rocked into her own hand, fingers dancing quickly back and forth across her sex.

The girl who had blushed at the mere sight of her body earlier was nowhere to be seen now. Keylyn looked completely self assured, not a drop of doubt or embarrassment still remained.

The last straw though, was how real it all was. It was clear to Dylan that Suri wasn’t bothering with seduction or putting on a show at all. Where someone else might have gone slowly - spreading themselves so the other could watch. _This_ was all honest pleasure, and it made Hawke almost dizzy with want.

Soft pale lips curled up into a teasing smirk, and Dylan’s control burst; she lunged.

Suri let out an undignified yelp as she was tipped backwards, the small of her back resting against the tub’s edge, forcing the elf to find support with her hands. Dylan allowed herself only a second to feel smug, returning the girls’ smirk twofold as she hoisted Keylyn’s dainty legs over her shoulders and dove forward.

It probably would have been humorous, if she hadn’t been so turned on, the way Suri seemed to be scrambling for purchase. Her small hands reaching reflexively towards Dylan’s head before seeming to notice should would fall if she didn’t grab the edge of the tub.

Hawke wound one arm around her hips to help support her, bringing her free hand up to trail teasingly over the bits of Suri’s sex she couldn’t cover with her lips alone. Dragging her fingertips lightly along her opening, damp and heated by more than just the warm water. 

It was all so perfect, more than Hawke could have imagined. The taste and feel of her was exquisite and Dylan couldn’t swallow her own moan. Didn’t really want to, especially when Suri bucked and let out a shout in return.

“Maker…” the elf breathed, and Hawke felt thighs tremble and clench rhythmically against her neck. Dylan allowed herself a moment of pride, she’d assumed the whole ‘creators’ thing was just an act of rebellion against the circle for Suri, but this was the first time the other mage had slipped up. It was an ego boost to know she’d been the cause of such a lapse, if only momentarily. 

Hawke slowed for a moment, allowing the girl to recover. It really must have been a while for her to finish so quickly, but that certainly didn’t mean it was over.

“Sorry, told you I was a little, um, rusty…”

After a moment passed and Hawke continued her assault, Suri gasped again and her hips jerked involuntarily. 

“Um…” she sounded confused, and a hand released the tub and pushed weakly against Hawke’s forehead.

Leisurely Dylan trailed her attention to the girls thigh, giving a few soft open-mouthed kisses before raising dark eyes to dilated blue. Surging upwards quickly to claim Suri’s flushed lips, enjoying the mingling of her two tastes..

“You think what? One quick, sloppy orgasm and it’s all over?”

Hawke pulled back with some reluctance, holding Keylyn’s gaze as she plunged one finger inside without warning, enjoying the way the girl’s eyes widened in shock and her walls spasmed and clenched at the intrusion.

“Sorry, But that’s not how I operate.”

A keening moan was all she got in response.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next door, things weren’t going nearly so well.

Anders hugged the pillow tightly over his head. One day, she was here _one day_ and she’d gotten into Hawke’s bed. 

It should have been hot. He should have had his ear pressed to the wall, robes around his hips. Hand around his cock.

He shouldn’t be huddling in the dark trying _not_ to picture what was happening next door.

What the bloody hell was _wrong_ with him.

_‘It should have been me.’_

He shook off the thought as if it were a demon invading his mind. Anders didn’t do love, didn’t do desperate, and definitely didn’t do _pining_. Had never even wanted something deeper….he _hadn’t_ \-- and one _stupid_ woman wasn’t going to change that just because she…

She what? Because she was beautiful, and funny, and brave? Well, she was also a liar, had also hurt him repeatedly with her deceptions and rejection. Though….it had never seemed intentional, and it’s not like _he_ had been upfront with her either. Not entirely anyways, and -- 

Another moan crept through the wall and he resisted the urge to hug his knees to his chest and just cry.

He didn’t want an attachment, didn’t want to feel this way. Not about her, not about anyone.

…………………..

Right?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, angst bby!

**Author's Note:**

> First time poster. Ever so nervous.
> 
> Hi. :)


End file.
